Getting Away From It All
by lilmouse
Summary: Cape Haven Camping Challenge. Logan and Max find themselves drawn into an unusual case that takes Eyes Only into the wild. COMPLETE! My thanks to all...
1. Default Chapter

**Cape Haven Challenge – Rules set by Alaidh. To summarize: Max and Logan go camping, Season One, and Logan is still using only the wheel chair for his mobility. I have set this before 'Art Attack'. _Due: December 10, 2004._ No word limit, for which I'm exceedingly grateful. ;) Note: 'Dark Angel' doesn't belong to me. Any characters you don't recognize, however, are mine. **

**Many, many thanks to Alaidh, the Almighty Beta, without whom this story would _definitely_ be less**** 'Dark Angel' accurate! :)  
**

**Many, many thanks to all who have reviewed my previous stories. I greatly appreciate your feedback and am humbled by your praise. :)**

**Getting Away From It All**

**By Mouse :)**

**_"Any man, in the right situation, is capable of murder. But not any man is capable of being a good camper. So, murder and camping are not as similar as you might think."_**  
_- Jack Handy_

**_Prologue_**

**_April 14, 2019, 11:47 PM  
Olympic National Park, Washington_**

He could hear the Hamma Hamma River from where he stood pressed up against a dogwood tree that was just starting to bloom. The water thrashed along its course, swollen from the spring runoff and heedless of anything in its path. His breathing was harsh and loud in the dark forest and he damned the root that had tripped him on the trail, not yet cleared by the rangers after the winter had rearranged the landscape. He'd lost his flashlight on the way down and landed badly against a fir tree that broke his fall, but also might have taken a few of his ribs. _Don't have punctured lungs_, he thought, almost amused that it should matter at this point. His early medical training through a first aid course in high school had taught him that there was very little to be done if you punctured your lungs in the middle of nowhere.

And Peter Hurst was definitely in the middle of nowhere.

_All I have to do is follow the river_, he thought woozily, his right hand pressing harder against the wound in his right thigh, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. There wasn't time to dress the injury or immobilize his leg, wasn't time for proper attention. He smiled wryly. _And not get shot again…_

He listened carefully for the sound of movement, something that would indicate that his pursuer was approaching. The river drowned out everything but his breathing and the pounding of his heart.

_If I can reach the campsite_, he thought, blinking as his vision began to curl at the edges, then changed his mind. _No, can't stop there._ _If I can reach the ranger's station…_

Somewhere a branch snapped. Peter resisted the urge to laugh. After all the taunting and bragging his attacker had confidently shared with him, he was obviously not as silent as he liked to think. The forest was hindering him, too. _Mighty hunter, I know where you are…_

Hoping the river would cover his movements, and not having much choice if it didn't, he stepped around the tree trunk, hugging it with his back and set off as quickly and quietly as he could towards the ranger's station.

The light found him and the rifle sounded again, echoing through the forest. The bullet shattered a slender, young aspen tree to Peter's left. He ran through the dark, continuing an irregular pattern as his father had taught, hoping another root wouldn't surprise him. If he went down now, he didn't know if he'd be able to get back up again. _Serpentine, serpentine…_

Another shot, coming from a different direction, and Peter knew the hunter's secret, understood the confidence now: he was not alone. This bullet missed him, too, but he knew how difficult it was to hit a moving target under the best circumstances, never mind in a forest, at night, with uneven terrain. He'd watched his father during training exercises with his partner at the practise range…

"You've given us a good chase!" a voice growled in the dark.

His leg was faltering, which wasn't unexpected, but disappointing, nonetheless. He recognized the path he was taking and knew it wasn't much farther to the campsite - and the route to the ranger's station.

"Nowhere to run now, squirt!"

_Who are these psychos, anyway?_ Peter thought, stopping behind another tree, trying to build enough anger to maintain consciousness. He was shaking and realized that shock was taking hold, as he'd known it would eventually. As an intern at a hospital in Seattle, he'd seen it enough in the ER.

The trees loomed over him as he gazed up at the forest canopy. If there was such a thing as Divine Intervention, he was willing to accept it anytime now.

Time. There wasn't any time; there wouldn't be anyone to help him…

The gunshot blazed near him and the world tilted violently to one side. All he could see was the huge silhouette of an elk and then everything tunnelled away to nothing.

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	2. Getting Away From It All: Chapter One

**_"… all things share the same breath - the beast, the tree the man… the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports."_**  
_-Chief Seattle, Duwamish_

**_Chapter One_**

**_April 15, 2019, 10:59 AM  
Logan's Apartment, Sector 9, Seattle, Washington_**

The rain made a gentle, soothing noise as it patted against the large windows of the Penthouse at Logan's apartment. It had been raining since dawn and showed no sign of abating. Dark clouds scuttled by on the high wind like alien ships, an endless armada sailing through Elliott Bay. A few lights dotted around the living room made it warm and inviting by comparison and the heat was working, taking away any chill.

_I might be a souped-up, transgenic bike messenger_, Max thought, smiling slightly, _but I'm glad I'm not out in that today._

Something classical was playing in the background; a quartet of some kind who had thought it was a good idea to make a CD of music written by some old, dead guy. Max hadn't paid attention to the name of the group or the composer. At least it wasn't intrusive. She sat in a chair pulled from the dining room table wearing her standard attire: long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, feet bare on the polished wood floor. Her dark, wavy hair was tucked behind her ears as she leaned over the small table before her, carefully selecting her bishop and moving him two spaces diagonally along the board. The move was obvious but it was all part of her strategy. She had made her opponent wait five minutes before making it: no need to win too soon. If she wanted lunch, she needed a reason to stay, right?

**_Who're you kiddin'?_** her Inner Commentator said. **_You just enjoy the view, and I'm not talkin' about the city._**

_Shut up_, Max thought sharply.

**_Suit yourself._**

Max sat back and reached for her mug of tea, silently regarding the man before her as she took a tentative sip.

Logan Cale was focused on the chessboard, his elbows resting on his knees as he considered his next move. He was sporting his usual style: the 'I-showered-and-shaved-and-absently-ran-my-hand-through-my-hair-with-some-gel-on-it' look that was apparently fashionable among cyber-journalists this season. He wore a t-shirt, jeans and socks. Though it was warm in the apartment, Max figured the socks were insurance for his feet, which could grow cold without his knowledge and potentially give him trouble down the line. Logan braced himself against the wheelchair and shifted slightly before returning to his previous pose.

_Maybe he's been sitting in this position too long_, Max thought, wondering if she should say something but uncertain about his reaction. He could be touchy about anything that might be construed as a weakness, especially if it involved his spinal injury interfering with something as simple as a game of chess.

The tea was hot. She blew on it lightly then took her second sip. Logan glanced up at her over the top of his wire-framed glasses and she sighed inwardly at the tingle she felt when his green eyes met hers.

Her Inner Commentator stirred again. **_You're gettin' mushy._**

_I'm allowed to appreciate beauty_, she defended, her gaze dropping briefly to the well-defined torso, which was being pleasantly hugged by the t-shirt. She hoped he wouldn't notice she was drooling. Her eyes met his again and they stared at one another for thirty-eight seconds, not that Max was counting.

**_Stick to artwork you can sell fast and leave the rich boys to their own._**

_La, la, la, I'm not listening…_

Max watched his arm muscles perform their subtle shifting as he raised his right hand and reached unerringly for a member of his army. He looked down at the piece then back up at her before deciding it was safe and releasing his queen. He sat back and picked up his own mug while she resolved to at least appear to doubt her ability as a general.

"Interesting move," she murmured, studying her own army. She hoped she sounded sincere. It wasn't very interesting, actually, but expected, standard, normal, and he hadn't taken very long to make his decision about it. He seemed to be playing wildly today, as if he were preoccupied with something, or didn't care if he lost. _Can't he see my knight and pawn? He's leaving himself wide open. _She knew he sometimes played chess with Bling, and also knew he often defeated his friend and personal physiotherapist. Not that Logan told her, of course. Bling had adapted to Max's random visits quite well, pleased to have an ally when it came to getting his employer away from the computer, interacting with people, remembering to eat… He had shared a few anecdotes with Max, including games of chess and poker. Both were rare, though, as Logan's secret identity as Eyes Only, defender of the weak and wielder of justice, kept him very busy.

Max glanced at the clock: 11:02. How much longer could she draw this out?

"You have somewhere to go?"

Her head snapped around. "What?"

Logan tilted his head slightly, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth. "You're looking at the clock. Do you have somewhere to go? I didn't think you had a shift at Jam Pony today."

"I don't, and I don't," Max said, pleased with her reply. His grin widened.

"Good. Then you'll stay for lunch, I hope?"

"That depends," she said coyly.

Logan waited a few moments, allowing Max time to try and figure out what his army was doing, and noted her eyes were contemplating the location of her knight and pawn. He had no strategy today, and was playing simply for the pleasure of being in her company. The situation was obviously puzzling her, though no other sign of confusion was apparent. He wondered idly if she'd be good at poker. A fantasy image of them suddenly popped into his head.

_It was night and they were on the couch, surrounded by candles and stripped down to their underwear. A half-empty bottle of wine was on the coffee table beside them, and he had a Royal Flush in his hand. She stared at him with those huge, brown eyes and sighed when he showed her his cards, smiling like the winner as she calmly reached back to undo the clasp on her bra -_

"You still with me?"

Logan started and hoped he wasn't blushing. "Yeah, still here. So, what does it depend on?"

"What?"

_Have I missed something?_ "You, staying for lunch. You said that it depends, and I wondered what would be considered favourable conditions for staying."

Max smiled. Maybe he was blushing after all. "What's on the menu?"

Ahhh… "Homemade potato and leek soup with herbed croutons, bruschetta, and strawberries for dessert." He had planned lunch very carefully, hoping to provide a meal she wouldn't be able to resist. Her eyes had grown wider during his description and she licked her lips.

Logan managed to suppress a chuckle. _Yeah, she's staying…_

"I think my calendar's free."

"Good, 'cause I couldn't eat it all myself."

She shrugged. "So there're leftovers."

"So I can feed you later."

"That's what leftovers are for - assuming you _have_ any after lunch."

His grin was starting to hurt. _Have my facial muscles forgotten how to smile?_ He relaxed a bit and said, "We should try to wrap this game up soon, then. Are you planning to move at all or are you conceding defeat?"

He didn't understand, at first, the odd look she gave him. He performed a quick sweep of the board and realized she had already taken her turn. "Oh."

"When you left, you _left_, didn't you?"

"Huh?"

Max sighed. "Just now, when you spaced out on me. I made my move then." She arched one delicate eyebrow. "Where did you go?"

"Nowhere in particular," he responded lightly, and tried to focus on the game.

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**_11:55 AM_**

Max sighed and reminded herself that licking the bowl would be considered rude. She grabbed another slice of bruschetta instead, broke off a piece, and used it to soak up the last drops of her soup.

Logan watched with amusement, wondering not for the first time how she'd survived before he started feeding her regularly. _Bottomless Manticore stomach…_

"I take it that was good, then?" he asked casually. She stuffed the last bit of bruschetta into her mouth and wiped it daintily with a napkin.

"Um-hm," she managed, still chewing. He chuckled and she smiled, lips firmly closed. She didn't want to spray crumbs all over the table, though laughter at her own enthusiasm struggled to get free.

"Must feed the victor," Logan teased, referring to her win at chess that morning. "Have to keep in your good graces or there might be repercussions."

Max swallowed and reached for her glass of water, hoping to wash it down quickly. It was hard to be part of a conversation when your mouth was full. "A good strategy," she finally said.

"Have room for dessert?"

"You betcha." She stood and picked up their plates just as Logan's cell 'phone rang. They glanced at one another, each separately wondering if this would be an Eyes Only interruption to their day together.

_Just when everything was going so well_, Max thought.

_Damn_, thought Logan. He wheeled to the recharger and snagged his 'phone on the third ring. "Yeah?"

"Logan? It's Matt." Detective Matt Sung was one of the informants for Logan's alter ego, Eyes Only. He was frequently an invaluable resource in the battle against corruption in Seattle and had recently been a target as a result. They didn't exchange Christmas cards, but Logan knew him well enough to know that something was wrong, just by the three words he'd spoken. Even over the 'phone, the officer's tension and discomfort was apparent.

Logan frowned slightly. "What's up?"

"I know Eyes Only doesn't do meets, but do you think _you_ could come down to the hospital right now?"

"Hospital?" Logan and Max shared another look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Max placed their dishes on the counter and came to stand beside Logan as Matt continued more quietly. "I've got someone here who wants to talk to Eyes Only. He's the son of a guy on the force. He's just been through a rough time. I can't discuss it on the 'phone, but he's seen Eyes Only's broadcasts and wants to tell him about something."

Knowing Max could hear the other side of the conversation, Logan raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged and pointed to him and to herself, then crossed her fingers: we go together, she was saying. Reluctantly, Logan nodded.

"Sure, Matt. Which hospital are you at?"

"Metro Medical. How soon can you get here?"

Logan hesitated then said, "Give me forty-five minutes. Where do we meet?"

"Fourth floor, west wing, ICU."

"Got it."

"Thanks, Logan. I appreciate this."

The dial tone sounded loud in the room. Logan placed his 'phone in his lap and looked around reluctantly for his shoes.

"Guess those strawberries will have to wait," Max said, pulling her sweater over her head, her voice muffled by the cotton.

"Guess so," Logan replied, finding his running shoes and deciding they would do. He grunted as he picked them up and put them in his lap then carefully tugged them onto his feet and did a double tie.

Max kept busy while he went through this process, putting on socks and her black boots, finding her leather jacket and checking the pockets unnecessarily. She was anxious to get this over with so they could return to their nice, quiet day in a nice, warm apartment - but she knew Logan was more impatient than she was, if for no other reason than it took him longer than he'd like to get ready.

And was another one of those daily reminders that a bullet had shattered his life.

He pulled on his down jacket and grabbed his keys, placed his 'phone in one of his coat pockets, and turned to Max.

"Shall we?"

She preceded him and held the door for him to pass through, without appearing that she was holding it any longer than she usually would for herself. She almost pulled it off.

"I got it, Max."

"Sure," she said, sounding distracted and let the door go. It caught the back of his left wheel. She continued to the elevator as if she hadn't noticed and ignored the muttered expletives as he cleared the threshold and locked his apartment.

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	3. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Two

"… _**in the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate than in the streets or villages… in the woods we return to reason and faith."**  
- Ralph Waldo Emerson_

**Chapter Two**

_**12:27 PM**_

**_Metro Medical, N. 115th Street, Sector 5,_**  
_**Seattle, Washington**_

They reached the hospital in less than the predicted forty-five minutes, despite the grim weather and annoyingly slow checkpoints as they moved from sector to sector. Metro Medical was one of the less desperate facilities, though it felt the post-Pulse pinch like everyone else. Dr. Sam Carr, the neurologist who had operated on Logan and was monitoring his case, worked there. He was one of the good guys and the hospital itself had an excellent reputation. Of course, if you had money, you had a better chance of getting assistance. Supplies didn't grow on trees.

They were able to find a parking spot out front. Logan transferred into his wheelchair just as the rain decided to come on harder. He sighed, unlocked his brakes and began the tedious journey to the cement ramp. Max thought briefly about grabbing the back of the chair and quickly and efficiently pushing him onto the sidewalk. She decided he wouldn't appreciate it and waited for him on the other side of the automatic doors. He arrived not far behind her, damp but with his pride intact.

Logan gave his head a quick shake to get some of the water out of his hair and placed his hands on the wheels, moving towards the elevators for the west wing with quick, hard motions.

_Max hesitated_, he thought, _like she was going to offer to push me.__That shouldn't make me angry, damnit._

**_But you would reject the help of a beautiful woman_**, his Inner Voice stated.

Logan chose not to pursue that thought. He was remembering the blurred images of his time in the ICU. He hadn't needed Matt's instructions on how to reach it; he knew all too well how to get there. The elevator pinged as they arrived on the fourth floor. Max followed him; the wheels whispered softly towards the nursing station. Not too long ago, they had both been here, Logan fighting for his life and Max providing an unscheduled blood transfusion. AB negative…

Logan sighed. The hospital disappeared, and for a few blissful moments, he recalled the dream with vivid clarity.

_Max stood before him, resplendent in a white dress with her hair pulled back from her face. He sat in the wheelchair, dressed in formal wear, and she was making a request._

"_Dance with me," she said quietly._

"_I can't," he said, regretting his injury all the more, longing to take her into his arms._

_She shrugged. "Sure you can. Mind over matter."_

"_See, my problem is I can't walk," he said, stating the blindingly obvious and wondering why she was putting him through this sweet torture. The soft white lights bathed her in a heavenly glow. She was so beautiful…_

_She smiled. "I'm not askin' you to walk. Just dance."_

_And he stood, pushing the wheelchair back, and held her in his arms as 'Valse Triste' by Sibelius played in the background. It was a miracle. It was all he wanted._

_It couldn't be real._

"_Whose dream is this, anyway, yours or mine?"_

"_Don't ask me."_

_And they danced…_

"_You okay?"_

"_Yeah. Just a little dizzy."_

_Concerned, he asked, "Do you want to stop?" Though he hoped she never wanted to stop._

"_No. Don't let go."_

"_I won't."_

"_Promise?"_

"_I promise." And he meant it._

"_Logan?"_

_As their lips almost met, the dream dissolved. _

_Upon waking and finding he was hooked up to machines and an IV, alone in the room and unable to feel his legs, Logan realized he'd discovered another level of despair._

The nursing station was busy. One of the women looked up from her work as they approached and recognized Logan.

"Mr. Cale?" He could tell she was trying to figure out why he was here, if someone had processed him downstairs and not alerted her.

"I'm looking for Matt Sung," he said, and hoped his smile was reassuring.

"Oh. Of course."

_Of course_, thought Max. _What does _that_ mean? _

"He's in room twelve."

"Thank you." Logan turned away and headed down the hall. Max stared at the nurse, irritated for some reason she couldn't put her finger on. What did it matter if they thought he was here for medical attention?

**_The assumption that he'd need it_**, her Inner Commentator said.

She followed Logan past the open, quiet rooms, machines humming softly, her mind replaying that wonderful dream she'd experienced not long ago in this very wing.

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"So, you can't think of any reason they'd be chasing you, in particular?"

The young man - _Peter Hurst_, Logan corrected, intent on putting a name to this latest victim of the twisted, post-Pulse world - regarded him cautiously with swollen eyes that were set in a bruised face. _With all his injuries, he's lucky to be alive…_

"No," the hoarse voice said, and the eyes darted to Max for a moment. She was standing near the bottom of the bed next to Matt Sung and a man who had been introduced as Peter's father, Andrew. Detective Hurst was broad and stocky and the anger and fear for his son was palpable, like a barely restrained creature crawling just under his skin.

"Peter, I just want to review this so I understand the facts correctly and give the right information to Eyes Only." The swollen eyes brightened a bit at the name of Logan's alter ego, as they had when Matt had introduced him as one of his operatives. "There weren't any other campers at the site, right?" Peter made a noise that was taken to be agreement. "But you were meeting some friends there next week." The noise came again. Logan glanced at Matt then returned his attention to the young man. "There was a man with a rifle that had night gear, and after he ambushed and assaulted you, he told you to run, gave you a head start. Then he chased you, hunted you, shot you."

The lips moved. "Yes."

"And that's when you found out he had a friend."

"Yes."

"If the ranger hadn't heard the gunfire, if she hadn't made it there in time -"

Matt placed a hand on Hurst's shoulder. "Andrew."

Something passed between them that Max recognized as a silent plea and appeal conversation. Hurst blew out a huff of air and visibly tried to contain himself.

"Sorry," he said gruffly. "I just want them caught and punished, but it's out of King County jurisdiction. We've passed it along to the authorities in Mason, but…"

"He bragged." All heads turned to Peter, who lay very still in the bed. Pain medication and an IV drip were set up beside him. He hadn't been out of surgery for his right leg three hours yet and had drifted several times during the conversation. A single tear pooled at the corner of his eye and slid down his temple to rest in his hair. "He bragged that I might be fast, but he'd be faster," the weak voice continued. "I might do track but he'd been doing this for years."

"He knew Peter was an athlete," Matt stated grimly. "And knew he was there alone. The park just opened for the busy season a few weeks ago and they knew there wouldn't be many people around."

There was a pause as all present digested this information.

"It was a game."

All eyes turned to Max. Peter managed to look at her incredulously. Logan and Matt seemed startled that she'd spoken and she wondered if Logan had remembered that she was there. Hurst gaped at her.

"What?"

Max wasn't comfortable with the intensity of the attention she was receiving, especially since Logan was among them. She sighed but didn't avoid the question.

"It was a game," she repeated, locking eyes with Hurst. "I don't think he was after Peter in particular. It didn't matter who it was, as long as they were healthy and could give him some sport."

"On what do you base this revelation, young lady?"

_Running through the woods, picking up the scent of the criminal, getting her signal from Zack as the group fanned out, circling the desperate fugitive, hunting him, sensing his fear, his sweat -_

"I recognize the scenario," she stated flatly, and by silent agreement, the men decided not to question her.

"I'll pass this along to Eyes Only," Logan said to the room in general. To Peter, he added, "We'll do everything we can to catch these guys."

Peter Hurst closed his eyes and almost smiled. "Thanks." He slipped willingly now into the arms of sleep. It was as if a blanket of reassurance was being wrapped around him. Eyes Only was on the case. He'd find the men who tried to kill him and bring them to justice.

He hadn't mentioned the elk he'd seen; they'd think he was hallucinating.

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	4. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Three

**I wish to express my continued thanks to Alaidh for being an amazing Beta.** :)

**I would also like to thank the readers for reviewing and inspiring me to write.** :)

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_**"No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main… Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in Mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."**  
- John Donne_

**Chapter Three**

**_1:09 PM_**

**_Sector 5, Seattle, Washington_**

The grey-blue Aztek pulled out of the parking lot of Metro Medical and headed back towards Logan's apartment. The first checkpoint had traffic backed up for at least half a mile. A truck had rear-ended a car, skidding on the road slick from the rain. The drivers appeared to be having an argument and a man was gesturing with one hand while talking, holding a cell 'phone with his other and sharing the experience with some poor insurance drone on the other end. Several officers were trying to calm them down and take statements at the same time, with little apparent result. Logan could imagine the scenario and winced.

Max found the whole process frustratingly slow, but she often did. If she'd been one of those guards, people would be assessed and processed far more efficiently. So much time was wasted while they studied the IDs, and if they had anything they wanted to check, they walked so slowly back to their little booths, as if they had all the time in the world. This happened at the next checkpoint with the car ahead of them. _Someone hasn't dotted all the "I's" and crossed all the "T's"_, she thought darkly. Max realized she was clenching her jaw and tried to relax. Unfortunately, relaxing made her tense.

"You in a rush?"

Max sighed. "Just don't want our day eaten up by these morons."

_Our_ _day_, Logan thought and smiled. "We'll be back at the apartment in no time."

"Whatever."

"So, you think it was a game?"

He was back to the shooting at the park. She shrugged, wondering how much she'd have to reveal about her past in order to defend her theory. A game. A sport. _A hunt._ Her instinct told her it was the right conclusion.

"Yeah. Sounds like it to me. Why else would guys with guns be out at night, in a national park where hunting is illegal, flashing hunting gear and deliberately using it on a human target?"

Logan opened his mouth to say something, but their conversation was interrupted; it was their turn to be scrutinized by the sector police. Their ID was carefully considered. Max gave the guard her most innocent smile when he stared at her.

"Heading home, Mr. Cale?"

"Yes, I was visiting a friend in hospital."

Their ID was returned to them and the barrier was raised. "Have a good day, Mr. Cale, Ms. Guevara." He waved them through, blessedly disinterested. Logan nodded and drove away. They were quiet for a while, letting the rain create its own, unique rhythm on the roof of the SUV and watching the grey buildings blend into the grey sky.

Suddenly, Logan cursed and yanked the steering wheel to the left, breaking hard. A boy of about fourteen wearing heavily repaired clothing ran into the road, not even looking to check the traffic. The reason was soon apparent, as several armed guards in urban camouflage followed, shouting to pedestrians to move out of the way and dodging around the Aztek and a Honda Civic that had skidded to a stop while coming in the other direction. People fled the street, some ducking into storefronts in order to escape being an accidental casualty of justice. Logan jerked reflexively as one guard rolled expertly across the hood, landing on his feet at a run. The boy disappeared between two buildings on the other side of the road with the forces in close pursuit. The whole experience had taken under ten seconds. Soon all that could be heard was the sound of rain and engines and the windshield wipers keeping time like a metronome.

"Well, that was exciting," Logan said dryly, still recovering from the incident. He scanned the hood quickly for any sign of a dent. The Aztek wasn't in pristine condition, but he didn't need any more reasons to visit the body shop.

Max arched an eyebrow, knowing how it felt to be chased by soldiers who were under orders to terminate you. Watching the event was nothing when compared with being the target. "We need to discuss your definition of exciting."

A horn sounded behind them. He glanced at the traffic in the rear-view mirror and released the brake, continuing down the road. "That wasn't exciting?"

"It was very telling of the increased military presence in Seattle." Logan gave her an odd look, both eyebrows rising towards his hairline. "Hey, I heard it on the news a few days ago."

"It's probably accurate." Moments later, he groaned as the cars ahead of him hit their brakes in close succession. What appeared to be a platoon of army personnel had set up a roadblock and they were searching every car. Logan resisted the urge to smack his head on the steering wheel.

"Hey, relax," Max said smoothly. 'We'll be back at the apartment in no time."

He glared at the windshield, her words echoing his earlier comment. She smiled sweetly and managed not to laugh.

"So, what is Eyes Only gonna do to help find Peter Hurst's attackers?"

Logan reached for his ID in preparation for the search and sighed heavily, taking in the congested road and the delay the military represented. A burly man in a rusted Buick behind them decided to get out of his car and start an argument with one of the soldiers. He had an appointment in the next sector that he had to get to and he wanted the soldier to understand that and let him through. Well, that was the censored summary of what they could hear through the windows. Someone further down the line leaned on their horn and was soon joined by an irregular chorus of horns that clashed in tone. Then the yelling began in full force, the words indistinguishable from the rest of the noise. A woman two cars ahead of them was being pulled from her dented Volvo and spread against the hood for a brisk search. Her face held surprise and fear, and her protests fell on indifferent ears. The rain quickly soaked her. Two children in the back seat opened their windows and started screaming.

His hands gripped the steering wheel. He was unable to assist, alleviate their pain, or come to the rescue. All he could do was watch.

"Well?"

Logan had an idea beginning to form, teasing his mind with the possibilities. He looked at Max, and she stared warily back, obviously not sure she trusted the gleam in his eyes. He smiled and said, "What do you say we get away from it all?"

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**_2:22 PM_**

**_Logan's Apartment, Sector 9,  
Seattle, Washington_**

"This is whack."

They had been in the apartment only ten minutes and Logan had assembled gear for a camping expedition.

"You have a better idea?" He pulled a rolled sleeping bag from the closet and tossed it to her. She caught it with ease and set it beside the other one. Two gym bags and a plastic cooler completed the luggage. "If I get there while the season is still quiet, there's a better chance they'll go after someone else."

"Making yourself a target is a _good_ idea?"

Logan grimaced. "Actually, I present a lousy target. If you can get off from work, it isn't _me_ who'll be the target."

"Yeah. Right. Like I have nothing better to do with my time than get shot at."

"Max, they're going to do this again. I know that, you know that. Peter said the guy had bragged about doing this for years. How many people are dead? How many people would no one miss? They're flaunting their ability to get in, hunt and get out. If this is a game, the risk and excitement only increases as more campers arrive."

"They could close off the park."

"And never have a chance to catch them. Besides, how do you shut down all the ways in and out of a national park that's larger than Rhode Island? They have too many places to hide and the rangers are outnumbered. Since the Pulse, it's amazing the park is open at all." Logan looked at her with the expression of a man on a mission. "These guys are organized, Max."

Max sighed. "These guys are organized, well-armed psychos."

"Who need to be stopped."

"But -" Max caught her next words before they were spoken. _But you're in a wheelchair, Logan_, she had almost said. _You want to go into the wilderness like this?_ She chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. _Yeah, that would've gone over real well._

**_Would've hit him like a brick_**, her Inner Commentator said. **_And made him madder than Lucifer's worst day in Hell._**

_Thanks a bunch._

**_Any time._**

"But?" Logan prompted, his face set carefully in a hard, neutral expression. Max swallowed. _Damn. He knew what I was gonna say._ So what should she tell him? That she didn't want him to get hurt? That she cared about his stupid Eyes Only ass getting riddled with bullets and his body being kicked over a cliff? That a forest wasn't wheelchair accessible? That a national park was full of wild animals looking for an easy meal that couldn't run away? That _she_ used to be a hunter?

That she'd never been camping before?

"But I've never been camping before," she said, hoping her discomfort and the offering of a potentially real concern would placate him.

It didn't.

"I used to camp when I was a kid," he said, checking his gun was empty of ammunition before packing it in his knapsack. The ammo went beside it in an opaque zipper bag. "There's nothing to it. You'll get outta Seattle for a week, enjoy the wildlife, cook over a campfire." He slung the knapsack over the back of his wheelchair. "It'll be fun."

"And the tent?"

"Is a kit that came with the Aztek. It fits over the rear of the vehicle. Instant camper, as long as you don't mind sharing the double air mattress that fits in the back."

"No big dealio." Angry with him for wanting to put his life at risk and at herself for being caught trying to mother him, she grabbed her knapsack and stalked towards him, her hand extended. "Okay, I'll do it. Can I borrow your 'phone?"

"Sure," he said, and watched it disappear with her as she wandered down the hall to the bathroom and closed the door.

Logan was nervous and excited. He hadn't been camping since… His hands gripped the wheels of the chair. _I'm not going to let this get in my way._

**_You'll be at the mercy of Mother Nature and her cruel jokes_**, his Inner Voice said.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. _I can do this. I'll be fine._

**_You'll be dead._**

The rain continued to pour. Logan tried not to let it affect his mood as he brooded about being in the middle of nowhere, dependant on Max if he couldn't get the wheelchair around a rock, or something. Several scenarios, all of them frustrating, paraded through his head.

"All set." He stared up at Max and brought himself back to the apartment, taking the cell 'phone from her hand and tucking it into a pocket in his jacket.

"What did you tell them?"

"I didn't. I asked Original Cindy to tell them I had the flu and would be out about a week," she said, adjusting her bulging knapsack. She gave him one of the gym bags to place across his knees and easily loaded the rest of the luggage onto her arms. "She's gonna let Kendra know. I'll need a note from the 'doctor'."

Logan nodded. "I'll see that you get one."

"Don't know if Normal'll buy it. I've been sick a _lot_ lately." She was referring to the numerous excuses to her boss so she could do Eyes Only work. "And I only have so many aunts who can die before I run outta family."

"Max, I need you on this one."

"Hey, I said I'd do it and it's done. Don't tie yourself into knots."

Logan sighed and followed Max out of the apartment, switching off the lights and locking the door behind him. If they were lucky, they'd be at the site before dinner.

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	5. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Four

**I wish to express my apologies for the delay in posting this next chapter. My mother's two surgeries - the second being an emergency operation - Christmas and work have taken my focus away from writing. However, I am determined to post more regularly from now on. My thanks to everyone on Virtual Haven and Cape Haven - and the MSN Eight - who have provided tremendous support. :)**

**Many thanks to Alaidh, the Almighty Beta, who continues to totally rock. :)**

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**_"The ultimate camping trip was the Lewis and Clark expedition."_**  
_- Dave Barry_

**Chapter Four**

**_2:53 PM_**

**_Highway #5, South of Seattle, Washington_**

Max didn't want to stop by her apartment in Sector 5. She told Logan it would just be one more delay, and besides, she'd discovered a small, neat, laundered pile of her clothes on the dryer when she'd gone to the bathroom to make her call. They had been left behind from a very bad Eyes Only day in the rain two weeks previous. He'd looked away at the news of her discovery and focussed on negotiating through traffic so she wouldn't see his embarrassment.

Two cases of bottled water and a brief trip to the market later, they had almost escaped the borders of Seattle proper when his 'phone rang. Logan pulled over to the side of the road, dug into his jacket pocket and retrieved it as they came to a complete stop.

"Yeah?"

"Logan? It's Matt."

"Hey, I was going to give you a call." Max was leaning back in her seat, but turned her head slightly so she could watch Logan's profile. She knew he could feel her gaze and was diligently ignoring her. "I'm gonna be out of town for about a week. Going out in the field for Eyes Only." _Out in a forest_, Max thought. "Olympic National Park."

"He's got a lead?"

Green eyes slid sideways to glance at Max. "You could say that. I'll be in touch if we find anything."

"Thanks, Logan. I really appreciate this."

"Just don't tell anyone we're coming."

"Got it."

"Gotta go."

"Watch your back."

The call ended and Logan placed the 'phone in a holder on the dash. He checked his mirrors and signalled, despite the road being clear of other vehicles, and resumed driving.

"Is it ever weird?" Logan raised an eyebrow. Max looked back out the window. "Referring to yourself as if you were another person?"

"Eyes Only _is _another person."

Max sighed. "But he isn't."

"He has to be or I could be compromised and he'd be eliminated. Only you and Bling know he's me."

"That whole statement is full of identity issues."

A few other cars were going along Number Five, looping around Puget Sound and heading towards the coast. With the cost of fuel and the long line-ups, not many people travelled unless they absolutely had to - or unless they had money. Logan was just glad Bling had filled the Aztek the day before. _Bling…_

"Bling. Damn," Logan muttered and reached for the 'phone again. Max beat him to it.

"You drive, I call," she stated firmly, and pushed the speed dial button she knew would link her to their friend; if they were still in range, if he had his 'phone on. If -

"Hello?"

"It's so nice that _someone_ answers the telephone in such a civilized manner," Max said, and Bling chuckled.

"I take it this isn't an emergency call, then."

"Nah. Just wanted to let you know Logan's gonna be outta town for a week or so, doin' secret stuff. You know."

"So why do _you_ have his 'phone?"

"'Cause _he's_ driving and I want to reach my first camping experience in one piece." Logan grimaced, but she ignored him.

There was a pause on the other end that lasted long enough for Max to know the physiotherapist was having trouble making the connection. "You're going _camping_?"

"Yep. In Olympic National Park at - where's the site?"

"Lena Creek Campsite," Logan stated, remembering what Peter Hurst had told them, wishing he hadn't telegraphed his desire to give Bling a call.

"Did you get that?"

"Yeah. Why are you going all that way to have, um, your first camping experience?"

Max looked at Logan, who nodded. "Looks like someone's been picking off people in the park," she said, staring out the window at the trees that lined the highway. "Hunting them like they got a permit. One kid got away, found by a ranger just in time. Logan wants to stop them."

"I haven't heard about it in the news."

"The police don't want to give anyone ideas, or let the hunters know they're takin' action."

"What does Logan hope to accomplish, exactly?"

"They knew the boy was an athlete, fit, would give them a good chase, even told him as much."

Max knew Bling had made the connection now. "And you're going to lure them into the open." It was a statement, not a question.

"Somethin' like that. I think." Logan stayed focussed on the road, though she knew he was listening to every word. "I don't have the scoop on the details, but that'll do for an outline."

"Max -"

"Don't worry. He'll be careful." Logan glanced at her then and grunted. "_We'll_ be careful. I think he wants you to keep an eye on the fort, as it were." Logan sighed.

"No problem. And Max?"

"I'll make sure he does his reps," she responded brightly. "Gotta go."

"Later. Watch your back."

"Right. Bye." Max returned the 'phone to its holder. "Well, now _two_ people are tellin' us to watch our backs."

"I'll watch yours if you watch mine," was the flat reply. Then he blushed slightly, realizing that in a certain context, that could've been read as a pass.

Max smiled and let it slide.

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	6. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Five

**Let it be so noted that I have never been to Olympic National Park, though the park and Lena Creek Campsite do look lovely on the various sites I have visited for my research, and maybe one day, I will have the undeniable urge to camp there. Any inaccuracies are, therefore, my own darn fault - and changes are bound to have occurred between now and 2019. ;)  
**

**Alaidh continues in her unwavering role as Beta, thank goodness. :)  
**

**Thank you for your patience and kind words.**

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_**"We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children."**_  
_- Haida Indian Saying_

**Chapter Five**

**_5:05 PM  
Olympic National Park, Washington_**

They made good time, especially once they had passed by Olympia, rounded the lakes and were on Highway 101. Sometimes they talked, and Max tried to find a radio station that wouldn't fizz out on them after five minutes, but with little success. She spent a few minutes rummaging through the many pockets of storage in the front and found some CDs in the compartment between the seats. One of themwas a disc of classical music. Max performed a quick scan of the selections and confirmed it was the CD that had been playing when Logan had taken her and Zack to the cabin.

And there it was, listed with the other compositions: _'Valse Triste' _by Sibelius.

She hastily chose another CD at random - a band called 'Nickelback' - and was pleased it could be considered the polar opposite of Sibelius. Rasping vocals of angst songs titled 'Throw Yourself Away' and 'Another Hole in the Head' could not be interpreted as particularly romantic. They were… safe. After that disc ended, Max didn't bother finding another one and Logan didn't comment. Mostly they watched the scenery, such as it was, and listened to the rain hiss under the tires.

They travelled west on Forest Service Road #25, which was fourteen miles north of a place called Hoodsport, following the signs which had been cleared of branches and were still quite visible in the fading light. It was well marked, and about seven miles later down the gravel road they were approaching one of the entrances. There were two barriers about fifty feet apart, which you apparently had to go through in order to reach a large lot where several vehicles were parked. The weather had reduced to a drizzle by then, just barely misting the windshield.

Twilight was settling nicely around the mountains Max could see through the haze in the distance, and there were trees and twisting paths making muted journeys into the dusk. A few lights dotted several weatherworn buildings, including a large booth at each barrier. There were two tall street lamps in the lot beyond, as well. These lights would be woefully inadequate should there be an emergency at night. Max used her Manticore-enhanced vision to check out the state of the buildings. The wood was bleached by years in the sun. The steel that reinforced it was a more recent addition. _Guess they mean business_, Max thought. Despite her trepidation about the whole trip, she was silently pleased that a government that had endured such chaos due to the Pulse had seen fit to make sure some things remained the same.

Logan lowered his window, anticipating there would be someone to greet them, and braced himself for the masquerade. Cool air drifted in.

"Good evening," came a cheery voice as Logan pulled the Aztek up to the window at the first booth. A woman Max placed in her early thirties leaned on the sill and smiled at them. She was wearing a green shirt with a logo emblazoned on it: Parks & Recreation. Her dark hair was short and she had no make-up on a face that, quite frankly, didn't need it. The freckles across her nose and cheeks indicated she'd been outdoors a lot. _Probably watching sunsets_, Max thought sourly, wondering why the friendly face was bothering her.

It took her a few seconds to acknowledge it was because Logan was smiling back.

"Good evening," Logan said. "Is there room at Lena Creek?"

The woman squinted to better see the interior of the vehicle. "Is it only the two of you?"

"Yes, we left the kids with the sitter," Max responded sweetly. She noticed Logan was a bit startled by this news, but figured his response would barely register with someone without her training.

The woman just chuckled. "I bet you miss 'em already, " she said warmly, without missing a beat. "I've got cats, myself." She reached behind her and pulled out three sheets of paper, passing them to Logan. "Well, if you're used to kids, you won't mind Lena Creek at all. There's a group using it right now, just arrived yesterday, but there's plenty of space. Here's the park regulations and I just need you to fill out that form." Logan glanced at them and passed them to Max. She ignored the regulations and the photocopied map of 'Highlights of Lena Creek Campground' and scanned the form. It had the standard request for information: name, address, and telephone number. Then there was 'Reason for Visit' 'Have you been here before?' 'Do you have any medical conditions we should be aware of?' and 'Next of Kin (in case of emergency)'.

"You folks have water?"

"All set."

The woman took in the Aztek and said, "This your camper?"

"You bet."

"How long are you staying?"

"About a week," Max and Logan said in unison. They looked at each other in embarrassment then looked away.

"My name's Sherry and I'm a ranger here. You need anything, just let me know."

"Thanks." Max snuggled up to Logan as far as her seatbelt would allow.

"I'll charge you for five days, then you can come and see me if you're staying longer."

"That sounds fine," Logan said amicably, as if he knew all that, went camping every weekend and none of this was alien to him.

"At twenty dollars a night, that'll be one hundred dollars."

Logan didn't react to the amount at all. He flipped open his wallet and gave her five twenty dollar bills. The woman pulled each one through a scanner and, satisfied they weren't counterfeit, gave him an orange pass for the vehicle. Logan placed it on the dashboard near the windshield. _Not living in the dark ages_, Max thought, noting the technology.

"Alright, then. Take the dirt road to your left and go 'round the parking lot then head west. The road takes you right to it. Vaulted toilets are all set up. I'll just remind you to only use the fire rings. There're even grills and several picnic tables. Your garbage has to be bagged and brought out with you."

"No problem," Logan said.

Without drawing attention to herself, Max took in the trees near the booths, checking for cameras.

"You're not all by yourself, I hope?" she asked, meaning it. Stuck out here, the woman was completely vulnerable.

Sherry laughed. "Oh, no. You'll see more green uniforms around. I'll need that form filled out and back to me here tomorrow morning. Have a good night, folks."

Logan nodded and closed his window, pulling ahead and under the raised barrier. They were silent until they'd reached the other booth. There was movement behind the window as someone very tall and male in a green uniform studied their vehicle. Moments later, the barrier went up and they drove through, Logan waving in a friendly manner as if he hadn't a care in the world. Max stared at the figure behind the glass for as long as she dared, as long as it would seem natural for someone who was just curious. The light was behind him and hid his features, so she wasn't able to get a good look at the person she assumed was another ranger.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," Max said brightly, sliding back to her seat so the belt wasn't cutting into her shoulder anymore.

"'We left the kids with the sitter'?"

The tone of Logan's voice was a combination of disbelief and exasperation.

"Yeah, well, we're a couple, right? Just here to get away from it all. I had to make it seem real."

"Right."

Max sighed. "There were cameras mounted on either side of each barrier," she said, deciding it was time to change the topic. Business was always a more comfortable space for them, anyway.

"Where?"

"In the trees. They were stationary but would be fine for keeping an eye on stuff."

"Hmm," Logan said and followed the directions Sherry had given them.

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_"Sherry?"_

She reached for the walkie-talkie while still keeping an eye in the mirror she had mounted on the side of the building. She watched as the taillights of the Aztek disappeared into the trees.

Pressing the send button, she said, "I'm here." She cradled the 'phone in the crook of her neck and waited for someone to pick up.

_"You get the plates?"_

"I'm just running them now. Hold on." She placed the walkie-talkie on her desk and took the 'phone in hand. It was a landline, expensive to have this far from the main road but more reliable than a cellular. The cord was tangled and she tried to unwind it while she waited. Finally, someone answered. "Hello? Yes, this is Sherry Munroe out at Olympic. Is this Hilda? Hey, look, I need you to check on something for me." She picked up her note pad and held the page under the lamp on her desk. "I have a Pontiac Aztek, licence plate D-A-H-L-6-2-5." She listened for a minute then said, "No, no trouble. Just want to make sure they're on the square…"

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The road to Lena Creek was paved but in some disrepair, as several potholes attested. They drove for about three minutes and found themselves parallel to a river.

"That would be Hamma Hamma," Max said, having absorbed the information the map had to offer.

Logan was distracted with thoughts of hunters and felt as if he'd missed some important connection. "What?"

"The name of the river," she explained patiently. " Hamma Hamma River."

"Oh."

_He sounds so disinterested_, Max thought, trying not get angry. _He's the one who wanted to come out here._ _The least he can do is try to enjoy the experience._

**_This could be a date, you know_**, her Inner Commentator suggested.

_It isn't._

**_Oh, right, _**it said sarcastically**_. You'd have to be dating first. Duh._**

_We're not like that._

**_Then why are you wishing this were a date?_**

_I'm not. No reason why we can't have a good time, though_, she thought defensively, then sighed as her Inner Commentator smirked, deciding Max had lost the argument by those very words.

An open area with four picnic tables came into view. Six tents of various sizes, design and states of repair were pitched and there were two fires nearby.

"Cool. We're next to the river. Hope the fishing's good."

Logan glanced at her. "Are you okay?"

"Just trying to get into the spirit of it all. The adventure. The excitement. Ooooo."

The Aztek pulled into a spot off the road, designated by a sign on a pole at the end of it as Number 9.

"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?"

"Hey, we're Number 9, and you live in Sector 9. This is great. And wasn't Sherry sweet?" Max opened her door and slid gracefully from her seat. The slam reverberated off the trees.

Logan guessed that was his answer. He turned the engine off and watched the headlights fade. It was getting dark.

Max opened the hatch and rummaged through the luggage until she found the instructions for assembling the camping package to the rear of the vehicle. _If I'm busy, I won't think about it_, she reasoned. She assessed the pieces: tent, awning and mattress with a built-in, easy-to-use, hand-operated air pump. She snorted. _Delightful._ She dropped the tailgate. The rear seats were already flipped and folded into the floor. Max tossed the mattress aside to deal with later. The awning tent was about six feet by six feet. That'd be second. She focused on the 'glove' portion. There was no photographic reference on the instructions, which were simplistic to the point of insulting, though apparently two people could have it organized in ten minutes.

She had it done in five.

In the meantime, Logan had assembled his wheelchair and transferred from the car, pleased the weather continued to hold. He found the fire ring but had no idea how they were going to light a fire. _Need dry wood for that_, he thought grimly, glancing around the site at the damp branches and twigs: at the mud. _Damn._

Several people had emerged from the tents and were hovering near the fires. Logan realized there were pots on the grates. The figures were stirring something in them and there were items wrapped in foil at the base of the pots. He had to get a fire started or he'd be living off the aromas that would soon be floating his way. He thought about offering to help Max but, given her mood and his poor manoeuvrability, he doubted she'd appreciate it.

"We need dry wood, ideally deadwood from a tree, not from the ground," he said aloud, knowing Max could hear him even if he whispered. "I'm gonna see what I can find." She grunted in response as she wrangled with the awning. Logan chose a path at random and carefully manoeuvred around the Aztek, checking for anything that he could use to start a fire.

They were both oblivious to the attention they were getting from the other campers.

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	7. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Six

**Many thanks, once more, for the encouraging reviews. :)  
**

**Alaidh continues to be a Most Amazing Beta, despite some hurdles with her computer. I couldn't get this right without you, dear heart.**

**And finally, for sharing in the joy of the 'Dark Angel' universe, this is for _you_, guys. You know who you are… ;)**

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_**"Worlds can be found by a child and an adult bending down and looking together under the grass stems or at the skittering crabs in a tidal pool."**  
- Mary Catherine Bateson_

**_Chapter Six_**

**_5:21 PM  
Olympic National Park, Lena Creek Campsite_**

Trip coordinator Caitlin Johnston of the Girl Scouts of America, Totem Council, Seattle, Washington, regarded the new additions to Lena Creek with curiosity as she stirred the pot of Sloppy Joes with her co-leader, Suzy Navarro. They had a group of nine Studio 2B girls with them, ranging from age twelve through seventeen, and it had been a very long and exciting day of hiking and watching for wildlife with Melanie, one of the park rangers.

Both women were tired. Caitlin and Suzy had met while volunteering at the local gym and each considered the other her sister. Caitlin was in her early forties, happily married with two children. Her son was staying with friends and would probably be playing basketball most of the time. Suzy was younger than Caitlin and her three daughters weren't old enough to be part of the Girl Scouts. They were staying with their grandparents.

Their husbands, Mark and Tony, respectively, were still at the shore of the river, swearing up and down that they'd catch some fish for dinner. Caitlin had nodded at this announcement, looked at Suzy, then, with Suzy's help, had started getting the Sloppy Joes ready. Fish tomorrow, maybe…

When the dusty grey-blue vehicle had pulled in, they had commented on the design, a rather boxy and improbable looking thing, but were amazed when a young woman emerged and started turning it into a camper.

"Clever," Caitlin had said.

"Neat," Suzy had added.

Now a wheelchair came into sight from the driver's side and a man transferred into it, looking determined. It was obvious he was searching for firewood. They exchanged glances and raised eyebrows. A few of the older girls, including Caitlin's seventeen-year-old daughter, Carrie, were getting the younger ones organized with washable plastic plates and metal utensils and handing out bottles of water. Carrie then joined her friend, Anna, who was stirring the other pot and checking on the garlic bread. It was wrapped in foil and sitting on the grate around the pots. Soleil, perpetual lollypop in place, came to stand beside them. They all noticed the wheelchair, too, and as the man moved closer to their location, the Sloppy Joes nearly burned.

"Wow," Anna whispered. The lollypop clacked against Soleil's teeth in agreement.

Even though the night was encroaching on their visibility, they had the help of the fires to see that the man in the chair was absolutely gorgeous. Carrie tried not to stare and hid behind her long, dark hair when he looked in their direction. His light brown hair was stylishly messy and he was clean-shaven. The firm set of his square jaw and the bright eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses completed the impact of the handsome man.

Caitlin and Suzy found themselves in a similar situation, being married but not dead, as they had said on many an occasion when a 'looker' was spotted. Fortunately, all the minders of the Sloppy Joes remembered the food in time and dinner was saved.

Caitlin straightened. "Girls! Come an' get it!" The man looked over at them and smiled slightly, a lop-sided grin, before returning to his search for dry wood. _A grin that says 'Eat me!'_ Caitlin thought. She gave her head a shake at her own wickedness and sighed, resigned to being a girl in a woman's body. At least Mark liked her that way…

"Suzy," she said quietly so as not to be heard by their troop, who were lined up at both pots to have food ladled onto their plates, "you take over for a minute? I'm going to offer those new folks some dinner, otherwise they're likely to starve." Suzy nodded, knowing it was an appropriate thing for a Scout leader to do and wishing she'd thought of it first.

Caitlin ran her fingers quickly through her short brown hair, straightened her shirt and walked towards the man in a manner she hoped he'd take as friendly.

He did.

"Good evening," Caitlin began. Those eyes turned to her and she was granted a smile. _Ah, to be younger… and single._ "You're not likely to find anything to start a fire with right now, not in time to cook dinner, anyway." She gestured towards the troop, some of who were watching attentively and giggling behind their hands. "Why don't you and your friend join us? We've made plenty."

"Thanks, that's very kind of you but -"

"We'd _love_ to," came a rich female voice. _When did she get over here?_ Caitlin thought. _She's very fast… _"It's been a long drive and I'm _starving_." The young woman smiled winningly and Caitlin smiled back.

"Great." She held out her hand. "I'm Caitlin Johnston, that's Suzy Navarro, and this is our Girl Scout troop."

"Logan," the man said, wiping one muddy hand on his jeans and shaking hers firmly.

"Max," the young woman said, looking Caitlin in the eyes when their hands gripped. The look held a clear message: 'Mine.' _As if he'd look at anyone else with you around_, she thought, noting the natural beauty and perfect complexion. Caitlin returned the look with one of her own: 'Just admiring the view. Not dead yet.' A silent understanding was reached and Caitlin was able to reclaim her hand.

"We've probably got some extra plates -"

"That's okay. We brought our own." The man started wheeling back towards their SUV but became stuck due to a particularly muddy patch of ground. The young woman was quickly behind him, giving him the slightest of pushes to get him going again. She released her hold on the chair and followed him.

Caitlin returned to her troop, which was being shushed by Suzy. "We'll have guests for dinner," she announced. Several squeals went up. "Behave yourselves, girls."

Her husband, Mark, approached the campsite at this point, Tony close behind him. Mark Johnston's short salt-and-pepper hair frequently deceived the younger athletes at the gym, who foolishly thought, despite his wrestling career and muscular bulk, they could beat him at the bench press because he was over forty. His record still held. Tony Navarro was slender by contrast in a lean, wiry way, and younger by about fifteen years. Fortunately, they got along "like a house on fire", as Caitlin had put it, when their wives had first involved them with the Girl Scouts. At this moment, however, they both looked defeated. "We almost had one," Mark began.

"Ah, the fish story," Suzy said good-naturedly. The men smiled as they deposited their gear near one of the tents. "You're just in time."

"Someone could've let us know," Tony protested mildly.

"We figured Dad would smell it cooking," Carrie joked, and there was general laughter. Everyone was comfortable, happy, and content.

Mark gave his daughter a quick hug and glanced over at the new arrivals, arching an eyebrow at his wife. "I take it you've invited them over?"

"Absolutely," Caitlin said, pretending to be hurt. "As if I wouldn't extend our hospitality."

"Did they accept?"

"Yes." Suzy passed a bowl to each of the men. "They're just getting their plates."

Tony took in the figure of the young woman and smiled wolfishly. "Good." Suzy smacked his arm. _After all,_ he mused, _I'm not dead yet, either._

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Logan's hands were covered in dirt from using the wheels. He muttered to himself, his words disjointed, as he rummaged in one of the gym bags for a towel. Max had the disadvantage of understanding him, nonetheless.

"What did you want me to say?" she asked, keeping her voice pitched low so only he would hear her. Assembling their 'camper' had taken the edge off her anger and she figured right now she was calmer than Logan. "They're just being nice, and I _am_ hungry, you know."

"Sure," he said tersely, finding the towel amongst his clothing and wiping his palms vigorously. "We've got time to mingle with Girl Scouts."

"We aren't gonna have time to play detective tonight," she added, ignoring his sarcasm. "Besides, it smells good." She grabbed two bottles of water from the first case and located plates and forks in the other gym bag. Food that didn't require being in the cooler was also there. When something clanged against the bottom of the vehicle, she took a closer look. He'd brought a frying pan and some of his cooking utensils. _If that means gourmet over the campfire tomorrow_, Max thought, _I'd better not piss him off tonight._

"Yeah." He finished with the towel and tossed it into the back. Max caught it as it passed her. He raised an irritated eyebrow. "Keeping it as a souvenir? I'm not a rock star, you know."

"If you're planning to wheel yourself over there, you're gonna need this again."

Logan sighed and stared at his shoes. The double ties on his runners still held. He wished he could stand and start walking through the park, any direction would be fine, and put them to the test.

That wasn't going to happen.

Max took his expression to be barely restrained frustration. She couldn't blame him. Could _she _continue if a bullet had destroyed her ability to walk? It was a question she had considered on more than one occasion. He was a proud man, and it had taken a lot for him to ask for her help with this investigation, especially since he was deliberately putting her in danger. _He knew what he was getting into_, she thought. _He's vulnerable out here and yet he came anyway._

Max mentally smacked herself on the forehead as the mud solution revealed itself. She quickly sorted through his clothing bag. "Here," she said, and handed him his gloves.

Logan stared at them for a moment. "Thanks," he said, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. It was as if he'd been trying to contain an explosion. _Why didn't I think of the gloves?_

**_Because you were too wrapped up in self-pity, _**his Inner Voice said.

_Next time, I'm leaving you at home._

His Inner Voice smirked.

Logan took the gloves and pulled them on. "Ready?"

"Ready," she said, placing the towel in his lap before picking up the water, plates and forks. When he looked up at her in askance, she added, "In case you need to wipe your gloves while you're over there." He nodded, saying nothing.

They headed back towards the campfires.

Eager young faces turned to them.

"Hey," a small blonde said brightly.

"Hey," Max said in return. She guessed the girl was about twelve years old.

"I'm Janie." A girl beside her with short, dark hair gave her a not-so-subtle nudge. "And this is Katie."

"I'm Logan," he said, giving his voice some warmth despite his mood. They were just kids, enjoying the great outdoors, after all. "And this is Max."

"Hi, Max." An older girl stepped forward and offered her hand. "I'm Sydney." Max took the hand and shook it. Sydney's clothing was all black and she wore several interesting pieces of jewellery. The black eye makeup and faded black lipstick gave her a Goth quality; Max wondered idly if she had a tattoo. She decided to start a conversation. _Maybe I'll have better luck with the girls than I have with Logan…_

"I like your necklace," she said. Beside her, Logan was offering their plates to a girl with long brown hair, who was obviously quite smitten with him. _Well _I _think it's obvious. I wonder if he can see it? _

"Thanks." Sydney reached for the silver ankh, which she wore around her neck on a short chain. "It's Egyptian."

"The symbol of life," Max added. They shared a tentative smile of mutual appreciation. A tall woman wearing a blue tracksuit interrupted with dinner. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and there was a big smile on her face.

"Hello, Max. I'm Suzy." Max recognized the woman from the group introduction made by Caitlin earlier. She accepted her plate, now full of toasted bun with Sloppy Joe mixture and garlic bread.

"Hi. Thanks."

Suzy pointed to a small folding chair. "Have a seat."

Feeling a little awkward, Max sat in the chair. It squeaked but held. She suspected it was intended for a person even smaller than Janie.

Logan had moved closer to the fire and locked the brakes on his wheelchair. Not having a table to rest his plate on, he asked for Sloppy Joes without the bun and some garlic bread on the side. Carrie, the girl who was trying not to stare, heaped his plate in her enthusiasm to please. Max stifled a laugh as he contemplated the food, no doubt trying to figure out if he'd be able to eat it all.

General introductions were made. Logan knew he'd remember the adults, but wasn't sure he'd recollect the names of all the girls. Caitlin and Mark sat on folding chairs nearby while Suzy and Tony settled on plastic cushions, which were protected from the ground by a tarp.

"So," Mark began, taking a bite of his overflowing bun and chewing vigorously. "Where are you folks from?"

"Seattle," Logan said, removing his gloves and placing them on the towel in his lap. During the drive, he and Max had briefly discussed how much information to share should they meet anyone. They'd decided on the truth - to a point. _At least_, Logan thought, _I _thought _we'd decided on that…_

_Yes, we left the kids with the sitter…_

"Caitlin and I are from Seattle, but Suzy and Tony are from Tacoma. We just got here yesterday."

"Most of the girls are working on their Environmental Health Badge," Caitlin stated, obviously proud of her troop. "But we're also bird watching and learning about wildlife conservation and the migration pattern of the elk herds." There were smiles and nods all around. They had been looking forward to this trip since January.

"And camping skills," Suzy added. "Of course."

"Of course," Logan said, and ate a forkful of the ground beef meal. _Hmm, not bad._

"Do you go camping often?" Tony asked, directing the question to include Max.

"Not as much as we'd like," Max said. She lifted her bun. "This is delicious. Thanks, again."

"No problem," Caitlin said.

There was a lull in the conversation as everyone focused on eating, save for the whispers of some of the girls. The fires crackled in the dark. They were the only light save for a lantern Suzy hung on a pole outside one of the tents. Logan could smell the kerosene from where he sat, and it triggered fond memories of camping as a kid. Another round of Sloppy Joes was offered. Most accepted, and Max, who had finished her first serving very quickly, was given two more buns despite her faint protests. The communal feeding continued. Mark silently added more wood to the fires when they started to flag.

Logan regarded the adults with caution. He figured it wouldn't be long before one of them started asking questions. It was only natural. It was something _he'd_ do if he were in their position.

He wasn't disappointed.

Tony Navarro had never been a subtle man. His wife had admonished him on this point a number of times but he couldn't change his nature. It was just the way he was wired.

And it usually worked to his advantage at the station.

He leaned back in his chair, took a sip from his bottled water and assumed the air of someone who was just casually curious. "So, what do you do for a living?"

Logan wasn't fooled by the man's appearance._ Here we go…_"I'm a journalist," Logan said, and took a bite from his garlic bread so he didn't have to elaborate immediately.

"What do you write about?"

"Political commentary," Logan offered. He returned Tony's scrutiny without flinching.

"That must make things… interesting for you."

"Sometimes."

"Tony, leave him alone," Suzy said, rolling her eyes. "He's on holiday, for goodness sake. He doesn't want to talk about work."

"And what do you do?" Tony directed his intense gaze at Max, ignoring his wife's nudge.

"I'm a bike messenger," she responded politely. The man's frank appraisal of her did not go unnoticed. She was doing the same for him. He was lean and fit, almost Logan's height - if Logan were still able to stand - with the kind of face that could be charming one minute and unforgiving the next. _Hope he brought enough gel to last the trip_, she thought, noting his hair seemed to be locked into place. She smiled between bites. "And you're a cop," she added sweetly.

"Yes I am," he said, apparently unimpressed with her statement, but Max could read the slight narrowing of his eyes and tension in his gun arm. "Know some cops, do you?"

'Tony -"

"Well, I deal with the Sector Police in Seattle all the time," Max replied smoothly. "As a messenger, I have to go through the check points on a regular basis. Gets so you can spot one even out of uniform."

The Girl Scouts watched the exchange in mute astonishment as the conversation turned into a battle of wills. Furtive glances were given to the two leaders, who did their best to send reassuring signals in return.

"I see. Anything else you'd like to share?"

"Tony, I really think that Max -"

"You're packing and you aren't in your jurisdiction of Pierce County." At the corner of her eye she noted Mark watching silently, ready to intervene. She didn't want this to escalate, but somehow Tony had managed to get under her skin. Max sighed. "But then, you're with your wife and a group of kids, in the middle of nowhere, so I can't say I blame you."

Logan diligently finished the food on his plate, soaking the last of the sauce with his garlic bread.

"It was very kind of you to give us dinner," he said, as if none of the tension were present. "Tomorrow, I volunteer as cook for lunch, to return the favour."

_Eyes Only to the rescue_, Max thought.

"You cook?" Caitlin asked, grateful for a change in topic.

"Does he ever! I'd have disappeared by now if he didn't feed me those amazing meals."

"Really? That's wonderful. I wish Mark could cook." Mark made a point of standing then, on the pretence of helping ready the troop for a trip to the river. Logan guessed he'd heard this complaint before.

"You should try his Chicken Cacciatore. It's to _die_ for."

"Oh, I'd love the recipe for that."

"And then there's the Pasta Tricolore…"

Logan smiled tightly at Max's praise. _I feel like I'm trapped at one of my aunt's Tupperware parties._ He shifted in is wheelchair. "It's a hobby."

"Well, that'd be fine," Suzy said, giving her husband a stern look. Tony shrugged and let it go.

Caitlin placed her utensils on her plate and stood, bending slightly to pick up the lantern. "Bring your stuff, girls. Let's do some dishes."

"I can take your plate, if you like." Logan looked up at Carrie's nervous face, flushed with embarrassment he didn't clearly understand, and wondered if he should let her or if it would be best not to impose. _Am I that intimidating?_

"That's okay, hun." Max took his plate and fork and smiled at the girl. "I'll go with you."

Logan looked from one to the other. "Um, thanks, Max."

"No problem, dear," she said, playing up their masquerade. Then to Logan's amazement, she leaned over and kissed him affectionately on the forehead. "Be right back," she whispered, and turned to follow most of the group down to the river.

He could still feel the warmth of her lips on his skin. It was all he could do not to touch it, to confirm it was real. He found himself alone with the two men.

"So," Mark said, gesturing with his head towards the Aztek. "Can we take a look at your beast?"

"Sure," he said and, bottle of water in his lap, he pulled on his gloves, unlocked his brakes and was able to make it to the SUV without any assistance, despite the mud. After Logan transferred to the driver's seat and turned on the headlights, Mark opened the hood to explore the design with a flashlight and Tony inquired about the unusual controls, which allowed Logan the ability to drive despite his injury.

Within fifteen minutes, they were bonding over everything from engine power to the best sources for fuel in Washington. Logan just smiled, feeling a bit nostalgic for his high school years and a flashy little red sports car he'd been given for his sixteenth birthday…

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* * *


	8. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Seven

**_"I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it."_**  
_- Alice Walker_

**_Chapter Seven_**

**_6: 45 PM  
Hamma Hamma River_**

All the girls had been given bracelets that glowed green in the dark. Max followed them down to the river, a relatively short distance from the campsite, feeling a bit like she was trailing a chattering comet. Some of them had strands around their necks as well and it made for an eerie gathering.

The trees rose around them: dogwood, western pine, aspen, silver fir. On the ground, sorrel, various ferns, and wildflowers flourished. It was cool and damp, the smell of wet earth and pine permeated the air. Though it never became extremely cold in Olympic, not at this altitude, anyway, the seasons still had an influence. Max took a moment to dismiss any other thoughts from her mind and savoured the scents and sounds of the forest. There was activity all around them. Small animals were rustling in the underbrush as they travelled into the evening. There were ducks settling on the bank, frogs sounding their territory, and harmless garter snakes curling under the rocks.

_Their prey was closer now, panicked, doomed. They wouldn't disappoint. Their training didn't accept anything but success in all endeavours. Track. Hunt. Kill. A pack of feral children with the discipline of seasoned soldiers._

_Track. Hunt. Kill._

Max shivered, knowing it wasn't anywhere near cold enough to give her a chill. She crouched to wash the plates and forks in the water then set them aside on a rock.

Janie and Katie had started a splashing competition with an older girl, Beth. They weren't paying a lot of attention to the task at hand. No one was in a rush. Max smiled. _This could've been my life_, she thought, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. _Parents who cared about who I was and what I could become. Having a chance to see the world through the eyes of a girl with no worries beyond whether or not she got her homework done on time._ Max sighed.

**_Regrets just make the good things go sour_**, her Inner Commentator stated.

_Not like I could've changed anything before we escaped. And we did get out. I have no regrets about that choice._

**_Try livin' in the now, boo._**

Max rolled her eyes. _You've been listening to Original Cindy again, haven't you?_

**_Ah, she is wise._** Then: **_Can you feel it?_** And her Inner Commentator fell silent.

Max pulled out of her reflective mood and reached into the night with all her senses. Something. Something _there_. They were being watched. It was a strong presence, though she couldn't determine if it was a group or an individual. She stood and looked around without appearing to study the forest. _Let them think I'm keeping an eye on the girls_, she decided, not that she really cared what anyone thought. If they were going to catch the hunters, however, it wouldn't be the best idea to let them know _they_ were being watched, too.

"What's up?" Sydney asked, noting Max's stance. Soleil joined her, sucking on another lollypop. Caitlin had indicated on more than one occasion that she'd rot her teeth if she kept that up. The determined girl had pointed out that you couldn't take ice cream to the park, so what was she supposed to snack on? She was dressed in practical denim jeans and jacket and a t-shirt with a faded photo transfer on it, very different from the girl in black. Max made note of the image and wondered absently who 'Hanson' was.

Max gracefully dodged a spray of water, which was sent unintentionally in her direction by Katie. "Just making sure I don't get wet," was her response.

"They goof around all the time," Soleil said around her candy.

Sydney shrugged. "Janie's my little sister. You get used to it."

Sisters. Max could see the resemblance now she was looking for it: both blonde and petite, though Sydney was a bit more conscious of her appearance than her younger sibling. Same eyes, same facial structure… She could picture them playing together in the park, fighting over who got to use the 'phone first, celebrating birthdays with their family.

_Sisters…_

"Okay, that's enough," Caitlin said, converging on their location. "Don't want to go to sleep wet, do you?"

Along the river there was general chatter. Max filtered through all of it, catching snippets as some might when changing the channel on a television. The topics were varied, with one theme being a constant: boys.

_Wasn't that marmot we saw today the most adorable creature ever? Is this river healthy enough for the fish to survive in? Does Robert really think Sydney will look at him now since he was caught shoplifting? D'you think we'll see some of the elk tomorrow? Isn't Julio gorgeous? I think Soleil thinks so. Is there enough film in the camera for all our photos? Doesn't Logan have beautiful eyes? Are they green or blue? We'll have to check on that. How old was that huge Douglas fir we measured today?_

Max smiled, wondering how Logan would feel if he knew he had a following. She sighed and did a headcount, even though it wasn't her responsibility. It was dark, with just the lantern for illumination and the equivalent of glow sticks for identification, but she could see all of them just fine. _Probably better than the leaders_, she thought. _I hope the watcher, whoever it is, has no plans for an assault tonight._

She spotted one of the girls who had introduced herself during the walk to the river. Her name was Vernice. She was a black girl of about fourteen with long, curly hair. Max could imagine Original Cindy having a blast playing with that hair. Vernice was slightly more visible than the others in blue jeans almost faded white and a bright yellow jacket. She was further down the river's edge, jumping to a rock that was near the shore and balancing quite well - briefly. Max tensed, knowing what was about to happen a second before it did, and she couldn't do anything to stop it.

"Hey, I don't think you should be on there -" Carrie's warning turned to a cry of alarm as Vernice lost her balance and tumbled backwards into the swiftly flowing current.

Caitlin spun at her daughter's shout. _"Vernice!"_

Several of the girls screamed.

Suzy started for the water but Max shouted, "I'm on it!" and lunged into the river with a burst of incredible speed, not caring about anything beyond reaching the girl before she was pulled under and trapped by a current or wedged against a fallen tree. Vernice was trying to stay afloat and was stroking madly against the flow, but she was rapidly disappearing into the distance. Max swam hard to reach her, keeping track of the yellow jacket. _Good thing I can go without air for a while, _she mused, as she dove underwater with the intent to get ahead of the girl. It worked. She matched the current, exceeded it just enough and reached Vernice in record time. It would've amazed those on shore if they had been able to see them properly, but it was too dark and they were too far away.

They broke the surface as a jumble of limbs and gasps. Vernice was trying not to panic but her eyes were huge; she had swallowed water and was hyperventilating. Max held her head and shoulders above the cold river and said soothing words she couldn't remember afterwards as she used her strength to swim for dry land. _If I don't get her outta here and into some dry clothes soon…_

Max watched as small, green shapes bobbed along the river, a sign that the group was following their progress. It reminded her of the meteor shower she'd seen from the Space Needle her first year in Seattle, as the bright lights chased one another through the dark.

They were met at the shore by a terrified pair of adults and eight shaking Girl Scouts. Some of the girls were crying out of fear for their friend. Max's feet reached the bottom and the light from the lantern caught them as she emerged, Vernice cradled in her arms. She noted Mark, Tony and a young man in ranger green were charging down towards them, all carrying flashlights that swooped over the scene, uncertain what to focus on first. _They must've heard the screams_, she thought.

Vernice was coughing and shaking. Max passed her to Tony and accepted a hand up from Mark, though she didn't need it.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine. We better get her in front of a fire, though."

The man nodded. He shone his flashlight briefly onto the river, no doubt assessing the speed of the spring flow and the distance that they had probably covered, as best he could, considering the darkness. Max tried not to think about the conclusions he was making regarding her rescue. Tony was already moving quickly back to the campsite with Caitlin, who held the lantern so he could see where he was walking. The girls stuck close to them. One had Tony's flashlight but was too distracted to use it properly. Mark followed then left the trail and passed them at a run.

"That was amazing," the young ranger blurted, shining his light on her face. Max winced and he pointed it to the ground. "Sorry. Look, we should get you to the fire, too."

"That's my intention." Max turned to follow the others back down the river to the campsite. She found the trail unerringly in the dark.

"I'm John," he said, heading up the bank. "Sherry said there were new campers. I guess you're one of 'em."

"Yep."

"You an athlete or something?"

A small, red flag started waving in the back of Max's mind. She did a quick study of the young man, who wouldn't know she could read his reactions with so little light. He looked curious, as if he were just making conversation. _Maybe I'm letting paranoia take charge_, Max thought.

**_Wouldn't hurt to be alert, _**her Inner Commentator said. **_Use your instinct. It's kept you alive this long._**

"Something like that," she said, with no hint of hesitation or concern in her voice.

Another flashlight met them at the edge of the campsite: Sherry. A slightly battered blue pickup truck with the park logo on the door was next to spot Number 9. Max wondered briefly why the hood of the Aztek was raised and the lights were on. She scanned the site for Logan.

"I was checking out the trailhead," Sherry said anxiously, moving in step to keep up with them. "Heard the screams over the walkie-talkie just as John radioed about the incident."

_And I wonder where John was that he saw anything at all?_ Max thought.

Vernice had disappeared into a tent with Suzy and Carrie, while Caitlin and the others waited, divided between the two fires. Tony was at the first fire, part of a noisy huddle around the flames, and as Max came closer she could see Logan was there, too, diligently waiting for water to boil in a large, copper kettle. Mugs of every imaginable design were lined up on one of the picnic tables. She could smell the hot chocolate powder.

He looked up from the kettle and smiled. "It was going to be a surprise," he said over the noise. "Guess it still is but now the water won't boil fast enough. Vernice needs something hot to drink _now_." He handed her one of his big, fluffy towels. "Thought you could use this. I understand you've seen some action."

"Yeah. Thanks." She accepted the towel, but was apparently distracted with figuring out how he could've reached it on such short notice.

"Mark got it for me when they brought Vernice up." He gave her a quick inspection. "You need dry clothes, too."

Max laughed softly. "I'm headin' that way right now. You _do_ know that if you watch the water, it won't boil?"

Logan smiled. "I'd heard that. Can you turn off the lights and drop the hood before you come back?"

"No problem. Were you checkin' the oil, or somethin'?"

Logan shook his head and mouthed, "Later."

"Max." It was Vernice, emerging from the tent wearing dry clothes and wrapped in a blanket. Suzy hustled her to the fire and directed her to sit on the tarp. The woman sat next to her and started rubbing her arms vigorously. Vernice held her still shaking hands tentatively towards the warmth of the fire. Her hair was wet but she looked much better. "Thank you. You saved my life."

"Glad I could be there," Max said, moving to crouch on the other side of the girl. "You've got a good stroke, though," she said truthfully, with hopes that it would distract Vernice from the danger she had just faced. "You a swimmer?"

She nodded. "I've got my Level Two Dolphin certificate." Max didn't know what that entailed but it obviously meant something to Vernice.

"Well, it shows." Sherry and John were checking with Caitlin and Mark to see if they needed any supplies or assistance. Max stood and turned back to Logan as the big kettle started to whistle shrilly. Tony and Carrie were at his elbow, ready to help with the mugs. Satisfied all was well, Max walked to the Aztek. That's when she remembered the plates and forks, which were on a rock by the river. _Tomorrow_, she decided, knowing they were likely to come to no harm overnight. She used the towel to squeeze the water out of her hair and found her knapsack, sorting through it for some dry clothes.

Something tickled at the back of her mind and she stopped suddenly, listening, reaching with her senses. Somewhere during the incident at the river, something had changed.

The watcher was gone.

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* * *


	9. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Eight

**_"I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do."_**  
_- Willa Cather_

**_Chapter Eight_**

**_9:40 PM  
Lena Creek Campsite_**

The rest of the evening was blissfully uneventful.

Max roasted marshmallows, learned several camp songs - managing not to sing _too_ off-key - and consumed two cups of delicious hot chocolate. Logan, who provided the powder, had apparently brought his entire supply with him. Max wondered why he'd had so much of it in his kitchen, and why he'd thought they would need it all on this trip. It didn't matter, of course. The girls were enjoying the treat immensely.

Despite the male bonding over the Aztek, which had been Mark's idea, and the rescue of Vernice, Tony was still wary of the latest additions to the campsite. His gaze kept returning to them as they sat across from one another and he made certain he stayed close to Suzy, his arm protectively around her waist. Max and Logan shared a look at one point when Tony stepped over to the covered woodpile to replenish the fires. Max raised her eyebrows, as if to ask: _What's his problem?_ Logan shrugged and mouthed: _He's a cop._ Max rolled her eyes, clearly indicating that she didn't find that observation particularly useful.

A hero had been born, however. Max had made an indelible impression on the Girl Scouts. As far as Vernice was concerned, she had a new role model.

"I'm gonna learn to swim as good as you, Max," she stated firmly. "Then I'll be able to save lives, too."

"That's an excellent goal," Caitlin said, beaming with pride and definitely relieved that the situation hadn't taken a different path.

"I wanna be as _fast_ as Max," Janie added. "She was in the river before I could blink!"

"Yeah, it was _so_ cool." Anna, a petite Chinese girl with long hair, smiled at Max, who was transported briefly to a different time, a different place. _She looks like Brin…_

_Sisters…_

Max recovered quickly from this revelation and said, "A bike messenger's gotta be able to dodge traffic. We have to be fast or we're statistics."

"Speaking of statistics," Suzy said, and there was a general round of groans - the girls knew what was coming. "It's a fact that too much excitement and not enough sleep makes Girl Scouts cranky in the morning."

"But we're having so much fun!" Katie protested.

"And if you want to have more fun tomorrow," Caitlin said firmly, "it's time to get ready for bed now."

While the others reluctantly headed for their tents, Katie sighed the exasperated sigh of one doomed to be defied and stood, snagging one more marshmallow for the journey.

"They _never_ let me do _anything_," she grumbled, and followed her friends.

"Well, we should be going, too." Logan glanced over at Max who nodded ever so slightly in agreement. "Thanks again for the hospitality."

"Us campers have to stick together out here," Caitlin said. She hesitated then gave Max a big hug. "Thank you so much for saving Vernice," she whispered, her voice faltering slightly. Max hesitated then returned the hug. She pulled away when she heard Logan unlock his brakes.

"I used to compete in the 800-metre freestyle," Suzy added, quietly so the girls wouldn't hear her. "I wouldn't have been able to reach her in time, if at all."

"You were gonna try before I stopped you, though, weren't you?"

Suzy's eyes were huge in the firelight. "How could I not?"

Max smiled in acknowledgement. Mark solemnly shook each of their hands, choosing not to say anything further on the subject. _Wonder if it's 'cause he's a guy, and guys aren't supposed to be emotional? _Tony chose to stand beside Suzy and acknowledge them with a slight nod. _He's either got a chip on his shoulder_, Max thought, _or he can sense something isn't right._ _Wonder if it's the former? Wouldn't be the first time…_ She glanced in the direction of the wheelchair. _Men…_

"Don't forget, Logan," Caitlin said from the flap of her tent. "You're on lunch duty tomorrow."

"As long as I have a sous-chef," he said, and she blushed prettily.

"That would be me," she replied, and the flap fell shut.

Max and Logan returned to the Aztek in companionable silence. He locked his brakes, switched on a small interior light and sighed.

"Ah," he said, removing his gloves. "Haven't pumped up the mattress yet. There used to be an air compressor but it was missing from the kit."

"I'll get it."

"No. You've done enough rescuing for one day. Go use the outhouse, or whatever, and I'll get myself outta this one."

Max frowned. "You're sure?"

He managed one of his rare, dazzling smiles. "No problem."

"Okay." After watching him flip through the instruction manual for about a minute, she took this as her cue to leave and did, forgetting a flashlight. She sighed but decided not to go back. She only needed it for appearances sake, anyway.

Max found a sturdy looking branch about three feet long on her walk. She snapped the twigs from it and peeled some of the loose bark then tested it with a few swings and spins. _Nice weight._ As she approached the 'restrooms', she gripped it like a weapon and turned in a circle, checking to see if the watcher had returned. The only one she found was an owl, which peered down at her curiously and blinked. Max smiled slowly.

"Do you know who's doin' the killings?"

The owl remained silent.

The outhouses, or 'vaulted toilets' as the rangers called them, were small and simple but clean. Max opened the door to one of the wooden structures and peered inside. She approached the raised toilet seat and, curious, looked down the hole. It was a deep, dark pit, which was probably pumped out every few weeks during the busy season. Max wrinkled her nose. The smell wasn't too bad, if your senses weren't as heightened as hers, and it was still early in the season. She did what she had to do, having survived worse when she first left Manticore, and headed back to the campsite.

Logan was diligently working on the mattress. Max placed her stick on the ground beside the Aztek.

"So," she began as she grabbed her toothbrush and some baking soda paste and started brushing her teeth. "What's with the hood up?"

Logan raised an eyebrow. Toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, she used both hands to mimic something opening. "Hood up?" she mumbled then continued to scrub.

"Oh. The guys were interested in Bessie."

The scrubbing paused. "Bessie?" At least, Logan guessed that was the word she was trying to say. Max took a swig from her water bottle and spat, wiping her mouth with the towel she'd used earlier.

"The Aztek. They wanted to know what her mileage was, how the controls worked, what mechanic I used. You know -"

"Guy stuff," they said together. They shared a smile.

The mattress was about halfway done. Logan was using his right hand, secured with a Velcro handle, to pump the air in, and he didn't seem tired from the effort. _Must be all those weights_, she thought, lingering on the memory of interrupting a session or two with Bling.

_Bling…_

"Hey, we haven't done your exercises yet."

Switching hands, Logan gave her a wry smile. "I think I'm exercising right now, actually."

Max knelt in front of the wheelchair and reached for his right foot. His first instinct was to move it away from her. He couldn't, of course. _After all this, I still think like a whole man_, he thought bitterly.

"We have to work your legs." She lifted his foot and started to flex his ankle. "You know that."

"I'm tired," he protested.

Max raised an eyebrow. "Hey, keep pumping, mister."

Logan hadn't realized he'd stopped. "Sorry."

He watched, helpless, as she lifted his leg straight then bent it at the knee and repeated the pattern until twenty repetitions were completed. At least the other campers were in their tents. At least no one else would be a witness.

"I'm done," he announced brusquely.

"We still have to do the other side."

"No. The mattress. It's done."

"Oh." Max placed his right foot on the ground, picked up the left and began the whole process on that side. "You can relax, then."

He smiled tightly. "Right."

"What's got you so grumpy?"

How could he explain what he was feeling? It wasn't as if he could deny he was a paraplegic, but for some reason he didn't want Max involved with the responsibilities that came with being around someone in a wheelchair. She was his friend, not his physiotherapist.

**_Bling's your friend, too_**, his Inner Voice pointed out.

_That's different._

**_Why? Because you're attracted to Max?_**

_Leave me alone._

**_I'll put that on your tombstone._**

The bottom line was a brutal reality for Logan. At times like this, despite Bling's threat to beat on his skinny ass because of his negative attitude, he acknowledged he was dead from the waist down and wished the lower half of his body didn't exist. Then he wouldn't have to contend with it at all. It was an aspect of his life he couldn't picture in a romantic setting - and he still had dreams of dancing with her in his arms. He was Logan Cale, Eyes Only - literally.

Max finished with his leg and, despite his mood, gave him a warm smile. He'd accepted her help, something he wasn't prone to doing, and she felt good about it. Besides, it gave her an excuse to be close to him, to touch him in a way that couldn't be considered threatening to their friendship.

Logan stared at her. She was radiant. _Look, but don't touch,_ he reminded himself,_ 'cause then you'd have to think about what would come next._

"Done?"

"For now."

"Thanks," he said awkwardly, lifting his legs so his shoes were on the footrest again.

"No problem."

"I'm going to use the… facilities." Max stood and looked like she was about to offer to assist him. Horrified at the thought, he added, "You stay here and… check that the mattress is alright. I'll be back."

"But -"

"I'll _deal_," he stated firmly, snapping his brakes off and wheeling towards the more permanent restrooms, which would be easier for him to access. They were further away but he had little choice. He switched on the flashlight in his lap when he realized he'd need it to safely traverse the path, and muttered his way into the darkness.

Max watched him go sadly, wondering not for the first time if he'd ever understand that the wheelchair wasn't important to her.

-

**_10:06 PM_**

**_Near Hoodsport, Washington,_**

The man was enjoying a relaxing smoke by the fire when the call came. He was reading a magazine and the article was interesting. He answered the telephone unhurriedly.

"Hello?"

_"I can't talk long,"_ the voice said. The 'phone connection was scratchy. _"I just got off shift."_

"Yeah, right. There better be a good reason you're bothering me this late." He frowned slightly, hoping his contact wasn't getting cold feet.

_"You know that Olympic swimmer I told you about yesterday? Suzy Navarro?"_

"Suzy Navarro? Yeah. What about her? She hasn't left, has she?"

_"No, no,"_ the voice said quickly. _"Nothing like that. She's still here, but new campers have arrived. You're not gonna believe what happened -"_

"Are you changing the target?" he inquired sternly, wishing people would learn to get to the point. He was a busy man, after all.

_"Y-Yes. You wanted me to spot the best option? Forget her. There's a girl here with black hair, looks kinda Hispanic. She just rescued one of the Girl Scouts from the river. She's fast and a terrific swimmer."_

"Hmmm." The man closed the magazine. This would require his full attention. "How fast?"

_"She'll be a ch-challenge,"_ the voice assured him. Why did they always stammer when they were nervous?

"I'm glad you called," he said smoothly. "I'll alert the others."

The voice was still making a noise when he hung up. He sighed, flicked his cigarette into the fireplace and swung his legs off the ottoman, smiling to himself. He was looking forward to tomorrow afternoon even more, now.

-


	10. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Nine

**I can't begin to express my delight that so many folks have enjoyed this story. What started out as a Cape Haven Challenge has grown into an extensive mystery that is still far away from being resolved by our beloved protagonists.**

**I wish to thank Alaidh, once again, not only for being the Almighty Beta and an excellent friend, but also for posting the camping challenge in the first place. The reason you have a multi-chapter story from me is all because of Alaidh. :)  
**

**Happy Valentine's Day!**

**Enjoy!**

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**_"What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, Man would die from a great loneliness of spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man. All things are connected."_**  
_- Chief Seattle, Duwamish_

**_Chapter Nine_**

**_April 16, 2019, 11:07 PM  
Lena Creek Campsite_**

"No, really, it's okay, Max."

"You're sure? 'Cause I could sleep in the passenger seat. I've slept in tighter spaces, believe me."

Logan took a deep breath and let it out again. _I can do this…_ "We're adults, Max. We can handle it. I'll make sure you get some personal space."

Max stared at him and swallowed, trying not to focus on how handsome he looked in the dim illumination from the small ceiling light. His hair was mussed, as usual, and his eyes were no longer hiding behind his glasses - those beautiful eyes the Girl Scouts had noticed. He wore a black, long-sleeved t-shirt, shorts and socks. The clothes reminded her of the few times she'd seen him exercising with Bling, though his legs were covered now by a sleeping bag. She shrugged and did her best to appear nonchalant. _I can do this…_

"'Kay." She opened her sleeping bag and focused on arranging it next to his, very aware he smelled vaguely of peppermint.

Logan smiled nervously and leaned against the back of the driver's seat, trying not to stare. She wore a t-shirt and shorts, too, and her long legs were very distracting. Her golden skin seemed to glow like a warm beacon and he struggled not to shift towards her as she settled. She looked over at him and smiled one of her beautiful, brilliant smiles and he melted, swearing he could feel the sensation all the way to his toes.

"So, we sang songs and drank lots of sugar and told bad jokes." She raised an eyebrow. "What else do you do when you go camping?"

Logan started. "Huh?"

Max rolled her eyes. He could be so endearing when he was distracted - except when he was glued to the computer, of course. When she wanted Logan to pay attention to her and Eyes Only took over his brain, well, that was just… irritating.

The glazed look he currently wore, along with the little grin just made him look…

**_Edible?_**

_Shut up._

"This is my first camping experience," she began patiently, trying to ignore the little voice in her head. "What else do you do when you go camping?"

Logan blinked. "Uh…"

_**Make out in the back of the car,**_ her Inner Commentator provided helpfully.

_Didn't I tell you to shut up?_

"Well, part of camping when I was a kid involved telling stories." Logan chuckled. It sounded a bit strangled, but he couldn't help it. Max's proximity was affecting his usual calm, cool demeanour; his 'back-up mode' when someone got too close. "Ghost stories and urban legend stories and… stuff."

"And stuff?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. Look, maybe we can do that tomorrow night. I think we should get some sleep." To punctuate his statement, he reached up quickly and switched off the light. Using his arms as a brace, he pushed himself down until he was lying flat with a pillow under his head.

_Sleep_, he thought miserably. _Yeah. Right. As if that's going to happen…_

Max watched him silently and wondered if he was this nervous around all his friends. _Not that he seems to have a lot of those, mind you…_

"Good night, Max."

"'Night, Logan." She slid down into her sleeping bag and wrapped one arm under her pillow. It had been a busy day and he'd done a lot of driving. Maybe she could get some down time, too. Max looked over at Logan, who lay with his eyes closed, pretending to fall asleep.

_Sleep_, she thought miserably. _Yeah. Right. As if that's gonna to happen…_

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**_April 17, 2019, 2:22 AM_**

**_Lena Creek Campsite_**

Max lay in the back of the Aztek and stared idly at the dots in the lining pattern of the roof above her. To her right, Logan lay on his left side, facing her, an extra pillow between his knees. He had finally drifted off about half an hour after saying good night, then snapped awake around one in the morning, sweat beading his forehead. He wouldn't talk about what had obviously been a disturbing dream. Instead he'd given the excuse that the position he'd been in - lying on his back - had caused the discomfort, insisting that if he lay on his side he'd take up less room, too. The mattress was the equivalent of a double bed so she didn't know what he was worried about. _Probably just being a gentleman_, she thought. And, of course, hiding the reason for him to wake up screaming…

Bored with the pattern - there _were _only three thousand, four hundred and eighty-nine dots impressed in the lining – she rolled onto her right side and looked at Logan. He was relaxed, for which she was grateful. He didn't seem to get much down time when he was conscious - too busy saving the world, blah, blah, woof, woof. His mouth was open slightly and she watched his sleeping bag rise and fall as he breathed. Would he wake up if she touched his cheek, felt his lips with the tips of her fingers?

How would he react if she closed the estimated ten inches between them and kissed those lips?

**_But you two aren't like that_**, her Inner Commentator reminded her sarcastically.

_I tell you to shut up a lot, don't I?_

**_Only 'cause you won't face the truth, boo._**

_And what is that, exactly?_

**_You know, _**her Inner Commentator said enigmatically._ **You just don't know what to do about it. And he ain't gonna help you.**_

Max rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, listening to the breeze sweep through the branches. _I'm not in heat. What's wrong with me? Why am I noticing so many things about Logan on this trip?_ She sighed. The sound of the river provided a muted, soothing backdrop and she unexpectedly found herself drifting into sleep.

She woke with a start and slid to the end of the Aztek, still zipped in her sleeping bag. Cautiously, she looked through the clear plastic 'window' portion of the flap to see if it was one of the Girl Scouts going to the outhouse or if it was a fox passing through the campsite in search of scraps that had disturbed her.

The huge silhouette of an elk stood at the edge of the clearing. Max was under the distinct impression that it was watching her, waiting for her. She glanced at Logan. He was sound asleep. Slowly, she pulled her legs from the sleeping back, pushed aside the flap and stepped outside. Her feet were cool against the ground. She was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts but she wasn't bothered by the cold. _Maybe Manticore was good for some things_, she thought.

The elk was still there. She thought maybe it had been an illusion or that the animal would have moved on when it realized it had been seen. It stood quietly, gazing at her with large, dark eyes that looked as if they had witnessed the passage of time from the Beginning. Max walked until she was within five feet of it, tempted to reach out and touch the huge antlers.

**Why are you here?**

Max wasn't surprised that the creature was speaking to her. The mouth didn't move, didn't mimic human speech at all. _Must be telepathy_, she decided.

**Why?**

_To make things right again, _she said, though she didn't actually hear her voice out loud. _To stop the hunters._

**We have been watching.** The elk tilted its head. **We have been here before you and we will still be here when you are gone. **

Max got the impression it wasn't referring to their camping trip.

**You must be careful. We have those who fight with us. Do not interfere.**

_We're part of this fight now._

There was the barest inclination of the large head. **As you wish. We will watch, and wait.**

Something was bothering her but she couldn't put her finger on it. Communicating with an elk wasn't unusual at all at the moment so it wasn't that. _Hey_, she thought, realizing what was absent._ Why can't I hear the river?_

**Because.** The head moved closer and the stars above reflected in the large, dark eyes. **This is… a dream.**

She woke with a start and sat up abruptly. It was dark outside. Beside her, Logan stirred but didn't wake. She could hear the river chuckling to itself and a breeze caused the branches of the trees around them to clap gently together. As quietly as possible, Max slid to the end of the Aztek, still zipped in her sleeping bag, and cautiously looked through the clear plastic 'window' to see if one of the Girl Scouts was going to the outhouse or if it was a fox passing through in search of scraps that had disturbed her.

The campsite was deserted. Of the elk, there was no sign.

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**_7:09 AM_**

**_Lena Creek Campsite_**

"You're up early."

Max was seated on a ground sheet next to the fire ring, legs crossed, the instruction manual for the Aztek resting on one knee. She was using it as an impromptu desk and writing something on a sheet of paper. Dressed in jeans, boots, a t-shirt and her cotton sweater, Logan reflected on how young she looked. The baseball cap worn backwards added to the image. She glanced up at him and smiled then returned to her task. _She's nineteen_, he thought. _Probably not much older than Caitlin's daughter, Carrie._ Logan noted with some chagrin that she'd already started a fire and that his coffee pot was on the grill. He had planned to get that organized for them but had forgotten to set his portable alarm clock the night before. He reached for his glasses, which were safely in a netted pocket attached to the back of the driver's seat, and started getting dressed. He hadn't stripped down completely but figured he wasn't ready to face the day in shorts just yet.

"What're you doing?"

"We have to get this form to Sherry this morning," Max said. In the space for 'Address', she had only given them the full postal information for Logan's apartment. Her crib in Sector 5 wasn't exactly legitimate and besides, they were supposed to be a couple. 'Reason for Visit?' She had written: 'Getting Away From It All'. 'Have you been here before?' Max wrote: 'Nope.' 'Do you have any medical conditions we should be aware of?' _Duh._ 'Logan Cale is a paraplegic.' She decided not to tell them about her seizures. It really was none of their business, but Logan's situation was something that couldn't be glossed over. 'Next of Kin (in case of emergency)'. That one stumped her. She didn't technically have a family and if Logan had any family, he didn't talk about them. She finally chose Bling, who at least knew both of them and would know what to do if something went sideways.

"Are you writing a novel?" Logan joked as he transferred to his wheelchair. They'd left it disassembled in the front seat and he'd been able to lift the seat and wheels onto the air mattress and down to be reassembled on the ground without too much difficulty. _All those reps must be having some effect_, he thought.

"Nope. Just making it legible."

"Good thing I'm not filling it out, then."

She grinned cheekily. "My thoughts, exactly," she said, and stood. "Coffee's on." She pointed to two mugs on the ground near where she had been seated. The coffee - _real_ coffee - had been in the same bag as the hot chocolate tin. "I'm just gonna drop this off."

"You're gonna walk?"

It was a stupid question when Logan thought about it. Of course she was going to walk. She was the epitome of physical fitness - and they'd have to completely close down the camping aspects of the Aztek if they wanted to use it to make the trip. Max didn't point out any of that, though.

She shrugged. "It's a beautiful day."

Movement across the campsite alerted him that the Girl Scouts were awake. He finally noticed that their fires were going, too; Caitlin and Mark were getting breakfast started. Logan watched the couple share a quick kiss before Mark spotted them. He and Caitlin waved. Logan and Max took a moment to wave back then Max kissed him quickly on the cheek, as anyone in a real relationship might do.

"Just keeping up appearances," she whispered and headed towards the park entrance at a brisk pace.

Logan made a point of not looking over at the girls, who had emerged from their tents in time to witness the intimacy. He diligently watched the coffee pot, even though he knew the water wouldn't boil if he didn't look away.

Max made excellent time reaching the booths where they had entered the park the previous evening but she didn't rush. What had been a three-minute drive enclosed in a vehicle became a fifteen-minute exploration for the senses. The sky had cleared overnight and the mountains were bold and majestic. She took a deep breath and savoured the air. It was crisp and cool with the hint of warmth that would come when the sun was higher in the sky. She could smell the pine.

_This probably hasn't changed much for thousands of years_, she thought.

**We have been here before you and we will still be here when you are gone. **

Max considered her strange dream, wondering if maybe it had been caused by indigestion. _I did eat a lot of Sloppy Joes…_

At first, she didn't think there was anyone on duty. The only sounds she could hear involved the river and the birds. _There has to be a ranger here, somewhere_, she reasoned as she ducked under the first barrier. She pressed her face against the booth's window, taking in the plain space where they'd seen the large male ranger standing the night before. _With the park open full-time, anyone could drive up and expect to be served_. She placed a hand over her eyes to shield them from the reflections and better see inside: small desk, lamp, chair, rifle on the wall…

"Can I help you?"

Max turned at the deep voice, trying not to look startled. _How did he sneak up on me? I mean, I'm Manticore, for cryin' out loud, and he's… huge._

"Good morning," she said. "I was looking for Sherry."

The man wore ranger green and had a nifty, broad-brimmed hat to go with it. He regarded her from a height of about six foot six inches, if her guess was right, and his black eyes were piercing. _Built like a brick shithouse._

"Sherry isn't here," he said. "She's at the ranger station right now." He pointed to the southwest. "Further down the river."

"Oh."

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah." Max extended the form to him. "She wanted this today." He took it from her silently. _If this is supposed to be some sort of intimidation game, it's gettin' old_, Max thought. "I'm Max."

"I know," he said, and passed her to open the booth. As he selected a key from a metal ring burdened with similar keys, he added, "Sherry told me about last night. I'm glad you were there."

"So am I… and you are?"

The door opened and he glanced over his shoulder. "Thompson."

"Nice to meet you, Ranger Thompson." _Wouldn't want to be on_ his _bad side…_

He crossed the threshold and Max came right behind him, not giving him the option of closing the door. "Nice place you got here." He went to a small, three-drawer filing cabinet and used another key to open the top drawer. The form Max filled out was placed into a folder and the drawer was closed and relocked.

"Is everything alright at the campsite?"

"Oh, yeah, it's fine. Thanks."

"And the girl who fell in?"

"Vernice? She was okay last night. I haven't seen her this morning."

Thompson tossed the keys onto the desk. "Is there something I can help you with?" He didn't sound irritated or concerned, or particularly friendly. Max had met bodyguards - the good ones - who had a similar approach to strangers.

"Is that an AHR 550?" she asked, stepping towards the rifle. He moved between her and the weapon. She stood her ground and looked up.

"Yes." His expression was changing from one of stony disinterest to suspicion and curiosity.

"With the CZ-550 standard action made in the Czech Republic?"

"Yes."

"Walnut stock?"

"Yes. Is there a point to this inquiry?"

Max shrugged. "Just interested, that's all. I have siblings who are into marksmanship." _Yeah, that sounded good._

"I see." He reached around and removed the rifle from the wall, bringing it between them. Her eyes nearly crossed as she tried to focus. "Are you into weapons as well?"

"Guns aren't really my thing, but I know a bit about them."

"It's a dependable rifle, with the classic three position safety, like the famed Mauser 98." He ran his hand along the barrel and looked at her. "It's for defence."

Max nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. This man wasn't a killer, but there was a rifle in the booth of a park that would be full of campers, many of them drawn by the fishing, and hunting wasn't permitted. Without having to openly admit to knowing about the attack on Peter Hurst, the topic was now on the agenda.

"Not good for hunting, then," Max stated quietly.

Thompson seemed relieved. It was subtle but Max could see it there. He felt sufficiently sure of himself and her intensions that he turned his back on her to properly mount the weapon on the wall.

Max recalled the police report Matt Sung had shown them. She made a decision. "The bullet they found in Peter Hurst's thigh was for dangerous game: 416 Rigby 350-grain Kodiak."

"Overkill," Thompson said, turning back to her. "That'd fell a moose. You don't need that for a human target."

"And this rifle probably uses Howell -"

"300 Howell 180-grain Kodiak ammunition." Thompson frowned down at her. "You're not a cop."

"No, just someone tryin' to help. My friend and I are… working with the King County police." _Sort of_, Max added to herself. "Unofficially. It's kinda hush-hush."

"I see. I don't condone civilians getting involved with police investigations. They don't usually appreciate the danger."

"I agree, but we aren't your average civilians."

The space was small but somehow it suddenly became much, much smaller.

"You should be careful," Thompson said quietly. His dark eyes seemed huge. "We have those who fight with us. You would be best not to interfere."

It wasn't a threat so much as a warning, concern.

Max licked her lips and said, as evenly as possible, "We're part of this fight now."

Thompson stepped back, though oddly Max had no memory of him stepping forward.

"If you see or hear anything, you find one of us. No unnecessary heroics. Understood?"

"Understood."

"I have paperwork to do." That said, he sat in the chair that was too small for his bulk and opened one of the folders piled there.

"See you 'round," Max said brightly. When there was no response, she left the booth and headed back towards the campsite at a light jog.

Thompson glanced out the window to watch her pass then reached for his walkie-talkie.

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	11. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Ten

**I wish to express my continued thanks to Alaidh for Betaing against all odds. :) **

**And my continued appreciation for those who review. It helps to know I'm adding some mystery to your lives… ;)**

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**_"Man has lost the capacity to foresee and to forestall. He will end by destroying the earth."_**  
_- Albert Schweitzer_

_**Chapter Ten**_

**_7:59 AM  
Lena Creek Campsite_**

Max could hear laughter as she approached. Mostly, the voices belonged to females, which wasn't surprising given the number of Girl Scouts at the camp. She could discern at least two male voices - and recognized one as Logan's. Approaching so she would see them before they saw her, Max moved towards camping spot Number 9.

Logan wasn't alone at his fire ring. Mark was there, drinking something - probably coffee - from a battered mug that had 'World's Best Dad' written on it in careful print. Beside him was his daughter, Carrie - and Vernice and Beth and Janie and Sydney and Soleil. Max sighed. The girls couldn't help themselves, it seemed. Some were gazing in blatant adoration at the man in the wheelchair, uncaring about any potential teasing. _Once they've tasted his cooking_, Max thought wryly, _they'll be following him home. _Mark seemed aware of the attention directed towards Logan, as the persistent smirk touching the corners of his mouth attested. Max figured having a teenage daughter and all the normal stuff that came with the package - including, if she understood her friends correctly, sleepovers, trips to the market and crushes on boys - provided an inside scoop on this behaviour.

"You throwin' a party without me?" Max asked in mock dismay as she stepped into the area.

"Max!" Vernice was on her feet and jumping into her arms for a hug before Max realized what was happening. She glanced at Logan, noticed his huge smile, and did her best not to make the girl feel unwelcome. She hugged back, and then spun around. Vernice's feet left the ground and she squealed, her grip around Max's neck tightening in joyful terror as they made a few quick circles before coming to a halt.

"Whoa!" Vernice nearly fell over when they separated. "Aren't you dizzy?"

"Nope." She steadied the girl then came to sit beside Logan and accepted the mug of coffee he handed to her. She looked up at him from her spot on the ground sheet and remembered that brief time in his penthouse, as they stood before the beautiful antique mirror, that she had to look up at him to see his eyes. _Usually I look_ down _on him now_, she thought sadly.

"Have a nice walk?"

"Yep. Met Ranger Thompson."

"We saw him briefly yesterday," Mark said, "when he drove Melanie to the site for our hike. Big guy."

_That was saying something_, Max decided, _coming from a man who looks like a linebacker himself. _"That's him."

Logan sipped his coffee. "Melanie?"

"She's a ranger." Carrie took a bite of her granola bar and chewed thoughtfully. "She's coming today, too. You'll like her. She's really patient with all our questions and knows an awful lot about the flora and fauna."

"Are you going for a hike?" Logan asked.

Mark consulted his watch. "We are. She'll be here in about an hour."

"You wanna come with us?" Janie asked, her expression hopeful. Then she put her hand to her mouth and stared at Logan, embarrassed.

"Hey, Janie, it's okay," Logan said quietly, trying to reassure her. "I don't think I'd be able to keep up with you guys, but it was very nice of you to want me there." He glanced at Max, who seemed entranced with him, a small smile on her face. "But Max could go."

Max shook herself from the warmth and gentleness of Logan's voice and said," Uh, yeah. I'd like to see more of this place."

"Great." Mark stood. "It won't be a day hike. We have to be back for this amazing lunch we've been promised." He smiled at Logan. "Caitlin can really cook, so you're going to have to work at impressing us."

"I'll do my best."

"Okay, girls!" Suzy waved them back to their tents. "We have some orientation to do before Melanie gets here." Reluctantly, Logan's admirers said their goodbyes. Mark followed them slowly to ensure there were no stragglers.

"Ranger Thompson knows," Max stated simply. Logan managed not to choke on his last sip of coffee.

"Knows?"

"Knows."

"Um, why we're here?"

"Yep."

"You told him?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." He stared and waited for her to elaborate. Max sighed. "There's a rifle in the booth - second going in, first coming out - where we saw him last night. We had a… conversation about it." Logan opened his mouth to say something but she continued. "It isn't the one that shot Peter. Wrong gun, wrong ammo. But he knows that we know, and wants us to let him know if we know anything."

Logan took a moment to process that sentence. "Oh-kay…"

"So, what does a girl have to do around here to get breakfast?"

He grinned. "Catch some fish?"

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**_8:53 AM_**

Logan had no idea how she caught the six trout she dropped at his feet, especially since she didn't have any gear, and he wasn't about to ask. She had disappeared about five minutes after their conversation and he had burned two pieces of toast - and eaten them - wondering where she was.

And now he knew.

"No time for breakfast," she said, walking nonchalantly to the Aztek and grabbing a bag of trail mix. Her boots were dry but her jeans were soaked from the knees down. Unperturbed, she twisted her baseball cap so it was on properly, cupped his face in her hands, and gave him a big kiss on the lips. He wished it had lasted longer.

"Gotta go. The troop is waitin'." Logan had forgotten about the people watching them, which included Melanie, a spunky young woman in ranger green with a long braid down her back.

"Later," Logan managed and waved as they headed west.

Caitlin walked towards him as he sat still, watching the spot between two dogwood trees where the group had just passed.

"You've got a great girl, there," she said.

Logan sighed. "Yeah." He looked up at Caitlin. "Well, I think we're having fish for lunch, and it just so happens I have a great recipe for grilled trout…"

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**_10:07 AM_**

**_Annie's Coffee and Grill, Hoodsport_**

Bill, Ted and Norton had been there for about fifteen minutes before Alby arrived. They'd had their usual coffees and placed an order for a late breakfast - or early lunch, depending on your perspective - while they waited.

Annie knew what Alby had in his coffee - double cream, one sugar - so she poured him a mug and took it to the table just as he was sitting down.

"Thanks, Annie," he said appreciatively. She smiled. "I'll have the usual, please."

"Two eggs, sunny-side up, sausage, brown toast."

"You got it."

Annie gave her order to the cook, who also happened to be her husband, Carl.

"Usual for Mr. Ferguson?" he asked, not even glancing at the sheet as he impaled it on the spike with the others.

"The usual," Annie confirmed, and went to serve another customer.

The four men were huddled in a quiet conversation but the topic seemed intense if their expressions were anything to go by. They fell silent when breakfast arrived, making appreciative noises and saying a polite 'thank you'. She left them to enjoy their meal, idly wondering what they were up to now. Since high school, this group had met periodically at her place. Of course, she'd only been a waitress then. They were always scheming. First it was planning drag races and pranks on classmates. It developed into more sedate topics, like how to restructure the trucking company they had purchased together or organizing one of their camping trips. After the Pulse, they'd been strong supporters of the Hoodsport Gun Club and even assisted as volunteers with the beleaguered police department to control looting and trespassers.

Annie couldn't keep up with them.

When she cleared their plates, she said, "Well, you've got good appetites today."

"We'll need it," Ted said, grinning. "We're goin' camping."

"Ah, it figures it was somethin' like that," she said, nodding wisely. "Have fun, boys."

Alby matched Ted's grin and said, too quietly for her to hear, "We fully intend to."

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**_11:34 AM_**

**_Lena Creek Campsite_**

The hike had been an extraordinary experience for Max. She'd learned more about the lifecycle of a forest than she ever thought existed and the migration patterns of the elk herds were now burned into her brain forever. The girls had so many questions and they were so excited that Melanie had to repeat things several times before the information was absorbed.

"You're good at this," Max had said at one point.

Melanie had laughed. "It's a gift. I plan to have a big family someday. Might as well practise." The ranger had declined an invitation for lunch, saying she had other duties to attend to before returning around two in the afternoon to take any interested bird watchers on another excursion.

Logan and Caitlin were quite pleased with themselves and the noise the girls made as they exclaimed over lunch was, no doubt, very satisfying for them. Max could feel a headache she'd being resisting all morning gaining ground and excused herself from the picnic table area to grab some pain killers - and tryptophan - from Logan's portable pharmacy. And, hey, she was having fish for lunch: a natural source of the amino acid. When she returned, she had a place at one of the tables waiting for her. Logan had rolled his chair to fit at the end of the table on her left.

"Bon appetite," he said and waved a hand at her plate. She could identify the heavenly aromas. There was a piece of grilled trout, the skin seared in the pan with garlic and rosemary; some boiled rice tossed with parsley and peas, fried tomatoes and onions, and raw carrot sticks. "The vegetables are courtesy of the troop."

Max smiled as she sat and said, "Rice. _That's _what made your bag so heavy."

"I knew you needed the exercise," Logan replied lightly and received the balled napkin aimed at his head with good grace.

"This is delicious," Max said, adding her praise to the cooks.

"I had an excellent sous chef."

Once more, Caitlin was blushing. _If_ _she ever stopped blushing from the first compliment_, Max thought. Logan sent her one of his winning smiles; some of the girls giggled. Max glanced at him. _He's so completely clueless._

After lunch, there was another trip to the river to do the dishes. Those who went were very careful around the rushing water and there was no repeat of the incident from the previous night.

"So," Max said, once she was alone with Logan at the Aztek. "What do we do this afternoon?"

Logan placed his glasses in the netted bag, leaned back on the mattress and put his arms behind his head. He winced a bit.

"Frankly, I think I have to rest. My… back is a bit sore, probably from bending over the fire while cooking."

"Anything I can do?" He didn't usually complain about any pain, as evidenced by the circumstances around his recent emergency surgery. _He drove us to his uncle's cabin, full of pain medication that wasn't touching the pain._

"No. I'll just take something for it and snooze, I think."

"Well, I guess I could go bird watching." Logan had closed his eyes. She prodded him with a finger in his rib cage. "Hey, no napping without taking your meds."

He opened his eyes long enough to oblige, accepting the pills and the water bottle she gave him to swallow them down. He looked tired.

"On second thought, maybe I should stay here."

"No, really, I'll be okay." He arranged a pillow under his legs and lay down gingerly on his back. "I just need some down time."

"If you think it'd help, I could give you a massage -"

"No!" The last thing he needed right now was Max touching his bare skin. The very idea nearly killed him. _You are so repressed_, he thought. She looked hurt so he added quickly, "No, thank you. I'm fine. And thanks for the fish."

"Sem problema," she said, sliding backwards out of the vehicle.

"I'm fine, Max." She didn't look like she believed him.

"Fine," she parroted.

"Fine!"

She threw her hands up in the air. "Fine!"

And she was through the flap and gone.

Logan lay there for a few moments, wondering what had just happened. It wasn't long before the medication took effect, however, and soon he was sound asleep.


	12. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Eleven

**As usual, I thank Alaidh, the Almighty Beta, for going above and beyond the call of duty at Olympic National Park. ;)**

**This one is for you, hun…**

**I wish I could thank each and every one of you who takes the time to review but FFN doesn't have that feature. Besides, if I thank you for your 'thank you', the cycle might never end… ;)**

**Please consider yourselves truly appreciated. :)**

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_**"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has."**  
- Willa Cather_

**_Chapter Eleven_**

**_11:35 AM_**

**_Hamma Hamma River_**

Max sat on a rock, hugging her knees tightly to her chest, and watched the water swirl and gurgle in the sunlight. She was hurt, angry and generally confused. _I wasn't before I met _him_…_

Which wasn't true, she had to admit. She had been angry at Manticore and a government that would support such programs. It hurt to be separated from her 'family', the only ones who could really understand her. Except for a few people, like Kendra and Original Cindy, she had been a loner. Even they didn't know who she really was and of what she was capable. She couldn't trust the world at large, not with all the corruption, and anyone promising the truth was a fraud. There _was_ no truth. She had looked out for one person: Max Guevara. Somewhere along the line, that had changed, _she_ had changed. It was all _his_ fault.

That was only part of her confusion.

_Why won't he let me help?_ Max threw a stone into the water, not trying to skip it or hit a particular target. It made a quiet plop and the ripples creased the surface. _Not like it'll embarrass him or anything. No one would've seen me give him a massage and besides, they probably think we do other stuff in the Aztek that would be _more_ embarrassing._

She closed her eyes.

_They were on the air mattress, Logan beneath her, his large, beautiful hands stroking her back as the kissed. They pulled apart enough to gaze into each other's eyes. His were so green and bright it was almost unearthly. This must be what love looks like, Max decided. Logan smiled. Outside the Aztek it was night, with the sounds of the river and the frogs being their only music. This would be a different dance, one they would finally share after so many months of convincing themselves that they were 'just friends'. Logan's skin was warm and everything was perfect as she returned his smile and leaned in for another kiss on those sensuous lips -_

She shook herself from the daydream and opened her eyes.

"But we're not like that," she whispered.

Max sighed. At least he had accepted the gift of the fish, but the journey to the restrooms the night before must have been very difficult. Using the wheelchair on the rough trail and then manoeuvring _into_ the restrooms themselves. Was there any power for lights? She doubted it.

It didn't bear thinking about. It didn't matter. He wouldn't accept her assistance and that was that, and being in the great outdoors away from convenient city living wasn't going to change anything. _Stupid, stubborn, arrogant -_

_Why was his back hurting so much? _Max pictured the campsite as they had returned from the hike. Caitlin was doing all the lifting, under his direction. She had witnessed him bend to stir the rice and flip a piece of fish with some tongs but that shouldn't have caused him the pain he was obviously enduring. She'd have a word with Bling when they returned to Seattle. _Perhaps we'll have to convince our reluctant patient that he needs to visit Dr. Carr…_

Max was drawn from her reverie by something catching the light further south along the river. It was high in the trees and all she could think of was the ranger station Thompson had mentioned earlier.

_I need the walk_, she decided, wanting to leave Logan to rest and have some time to herself. She was finding strolling through forest very therapeutic. _Won't be another couple of hours before the bird watching hike, anyway._ Her mind preoccupied with Logan's health, she headed for the station.

At the edge of the campsite, Thompson silently watched her leave.

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**_12:15 PM  
Ranger Station Number 7,  
Olympic National Park_**

Sherry Munroe stood at the north side of the tall structure, leaning on the railing and focusing her binoculars on Lena Creek Campsite. As it wasn't very far away from the station, she had an excellent view. She could see the Girl Scouts were involved with a craft that included Popsicle sticks and coloured yarn. _They're making__God's Eye_, she thought, remembering the name from when she had attended summer camp. Of Logan Cale and Max Guevara there was no sign. She wasn't sure why they were really here - neither struck her as the camping type - but they seemed mostly harmless. _At least their vehicle matches the address they've given and there aren't any warrants for their arrest. Last thing we need is more trouble. _

She'd figure it out.

The ranger station was a solidly built, wooden hexagonal deck with a roof. Except for a railing that went around the entire deck, the sides were open to the elements. There were blinds that could be pulled down in inclement weather, or used to reduce the sun during a heat wave but it wasn't designed as a cottage get-away. The zigzagging exterior stairs alone tended to put off the tourists who wanted to see the view. Others weren't comfortable with the height: sixty feet from the ground. It provided an excellent vantage point to monitor this part of Olympic and gave a three hundred and sixty degree view of any potential fires. There were ten such stations throughout the park. Sherry wished there were more.

She sighed, enjoying the beautiful spring day and moved to a different side, refocussing her attention on the forest that led to the mountains.

"Nice view."

She fumbled with the binoculars and they would have dropped sixty feet if a hand hadn't swooped in and caught them.

"I bet these cost a bundle," Max quipped, putting the equipment to her own eyes and pivoting to focus on the campsite. "Ooooh, they're doing crafts without me."

Sherry struggled to return her breathing to normal. "I didn't see you approaching."

Max smiled and lowered the binoculars, handing them back to the ranger. "You were busy," she said simply. She didn't sense the woman was a danger but she needed to know where she stood in the park hierarchy. Any information would be useful, as things were moving way too slow, and the hunters had too many targets.

"Or hear you approaching, for that matter." Sherry felt oddly calm and took the binoculars with a steady hand. "You're fast, you swim like a fish and climb like a squirrel - only quieter."

"Habit. So, are you… looking for anything in particular?"

"The usual." Sherry wasn't sure how to react to that question so she took neutral ground. Thompson had told her of the encounter with this young woman at the booth. She had to be careful. Civilians, however well meaning, could muddle the whole situation. "Enjoying the park?"

Max walked towards the far side of the station slowly, taking in the view as she moved. "Oh, yeah," she said sincerely. "It's beautiful here. And quiet, too."

"Not like Seattle."

"No. Not like Seattle." She stopped about halfway along and studied the mountains in the distance. "There are parts of Seattle that aren't very nice. I've had to deliver to them. Customer is a customer, as long as he pays. Lots of guns and drugs and smuggling. You have to make sure you don't get caught in the middle of somethin'." Max turned back to Sherry. "Looks like someone wants to turn _this_ place into a bad neighbourhood."

Sherry nodded. _In for a penny…_ "Thompson told me about your interest in rifles."

"That figures. Say, does he do that spooky Ancient One trick a lot?"

The ranger laughed lightly. "I don't know what you mean."

Max shrugged. "Whatever. You can have your secrets. So. About hunting."

"Not permitted."

"About Peter Hurst, then."

"You should leave that to the proper authorities."

"They're sure of themselves, aren't they? These hunters?" Max pressed. "Peter said one guy bragged about doin' this for years. You didn't know, did you?"

Sherry leaned one hip against the railing. It was almost a relief to discuss it. "No. Well, we had suspicions that something wasn't right, but nothing concrete. The hunter could've been lying, though, to scare the boy."

Max closed the distance between them quickly. "You don't think he was, though, do you?" She pointed to Lena Creek Campsite. "You've got _Girl Scouts_ down there, for cryin' out loud. Can we say 'target practice'?"

The ranger stiffened. "We'll get them."

"When? This place should be closed to the public until these nut bars are stopped!"

Sherry tried not to be baited but it was difficult when she was hearing her own arguments presented to her. "I understand, believe me, but how would we catch them if they had nothing to tempt them?"

Max snorted and crossed her arms. "Is that the official position of the Conservation Council or something? I've heard it before. It goes something like this: 'How many children need to die at an intersection before the city will put up a traffic light?'"

"It isn't that simple."

"Bullshit."

"You weren't there!"

And something clicked in Max's head. She could hear Andrew Hurst speaking as if he were standing right beside her.

"If the ranger hadn't heard the gunfire, if she hadn't made it there in time -" 

"You were the one who found him."

Sherry hesitated then nodded. "Yes. I fired several shots but don't think I hit anyone. There was no trace of blood other than Hurst's when the police took their samples from the site. All I cared about at the time was scaring them away and getting the boy to a hospital."

"No offence or anything, but why didn't the hunters just shoot _you_? You know, two for the price of one. If they had night gear, what are the chances that you were a nice, clear _target_?"

"The chances were good, but I risk my life out here all the time. It comes with the green shirt."

"So why _didn't_ they kill you?"

"I wasn't alone."

Max thought about that answer, remembering her strange dream, but decided to let it go. It _was_ just a dream, after all, and she'd been kidding about the Ancient One thing 'cause that weird moment in the booth with Brick Shithouse hadn't _really_ happened, had it?

"You called for the air lift to Seattle?"

"Thompson did."

"Ah."

"You two aren't cops." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, but then I told that to your ranger friend."

"It's good to know the story is consistent, at least."

There was an awkward pause, as if they were both trying to decide what to say next or whether or not they should say anything at all.

Wisdom won out, in both cases.

"If they're still around, we'll help all we can," Max promised.

"They're around." Sherry didn't elaborate.

Max didn't want her to, so that worked out well. "I'm glad we had this little chat," she said brightly and headed for the stairs.

"They're going out with Melanie this afternoon, aren't they?"

"Some of them are staying at the campsite."

"Are you going with them?"

"Yep. I'm gonna learn about the birds. I hear you have an eagle's nest you're monitoring."

Sherry managed a smile. "Yes. Peter Hurst was interested in that, too, though I don't know how he found out." Max frowned slightly. "It isn't general knowledge," the ranger explained. "And the nest is a bit off the beaten path. We don't want people crowding the birds."

"Right. Well, for the record, I know about it 'cause you told Caitlin and she told me."

"Right. Of course." Max hesitated at the top of the steps. "Well." Sherry looked out at the forest then back to Max. "You be careful out there."

"Count on it."

Before she could try another approach to convincing the young woman and her husband to leave the investigation to the rangers and the Mason County police, Sherry found herself alone on the deck. She went to the edge and peered over the railing.

Max was almost at the bottom step.


	13. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Twelve

**The saga continues. It occurs to me that I don't think I declared at the beginning of all this that I don't own these characters, except, of course, for the ones you don't recognize. In case I didn't, I say so now.**

**My thanks to my Beta, Alaidh, for following the trail through the woods with me.**

**Some day, we must go camping, girl… :)**

**Oh, and if you haven't already buckled your seatbelts, people, do so now…;)**

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**_"Reverence for life."_**  
_- Albert Schweitzer_

**_Chapter Twelve_**

**_1:45 PM  
Lena Lake Trailhead_**

Alby Ferguson leaned against a fir tree and lit another cigarette. Beside him, Bill and Norton were talking quietly about the status of the warehouse and whether or not the fleet of trucks was ready for their annual inspection by the Mason County Safety Bureau.

"Wouldn't want to face another fine this year," Bill said with mock seriousness. They laughed and took another swig of their beer.

Alby sighed. After the incident with the boy from Seattle - their first survivor - he knew it was only going to be a matter of time before the authorities paid too much attention to the area and their hunting would have to cease for a while, just until all the fuss blew over. Norton had been particularly reckless that night. He had miscalculated the boy's location, and ability to run even when wounded. Alby figured he'd put sufficient fear into their prey before the hunt had started, but it seemed the boy was made of tougher stuff than their previous victims, which had mostly consisted of drifters trying to live off the land illegally. There was the odd hiker but they didn't make a habit of targeting them. They could always have family who cared, which made it trickier to ensure he and the boys remained 'at large'.

However, they had mastered the art of disposing of the bodies, and the wildlife and Mother Nature were unwitting allies in this process. It helped to have someone on the inside, of course, but that would have to change today, too. Yes, this hunt would be their last for a while. He didn't think Bill understood that but knew that Norton did, and that he didn't like it.

He shared a look with Ted, who was lying on the rise, watching for activity using his targeting scope. _At least I know I can count on him to keep a level head_, Alby thought, _but Norton's another story. He's a mean drunk and that could be a problem._

"I think that may be enough beer, boys," he said, quietly but firmly. "You can celebrate some more when we're done."

Norton's eyes shone oddly as he grinned. "Sure thing, boss," he said and saluted.

Bill nodded and obediently closed the small cooler.

"Here they come."

The three men froze at Ted's announcement. A blue pick-up truck with the park logo on the door drove into view, heading south for the Lena Creek campsite. The big ranger was driving, a man from the Chinook Tribe who claimed to have traced his ancestors back hundreds of years. Alby knew to stay as far away from him as possible - unless he had a clear shot. _Today might be the day_, he thought, e_specially if my hunting is going to be curbed for a bit._ Beside the native sat another ranger with a long dark braid going down her back. _Melanie is a little early for her appointment with the troop_, he thought, smiling.

Norton watched as the truck disappeared around a bend in the road.

"Nice of her to be so timely," he said, and checked his ammunition for the tenth time in as many minutes.

"Remember, only one target until I say so."

"You bet, boss. I hear she's a looker."

Ted sighed and returned to his scope.

"_If_ we have time to play." Alby straightened. "We might not have that luxury. We're taking a risk as it is."

"I _hope_ we have time," Bill said. He was a good-looking man with blonde hair and a lean build. An ideal husband, or so his wife said. Alby figured if she knew how many times he'd cheated on her, she'd be out the door and to her mother's with the kids faster than Bill could think. Which, admittedly, wasn't very fast. _He didn't usually think with his brain anyway_, Alby mused.

"There's two other women," Norton pointed out. "And don't forget the Girl Scouts."

"Nort, that's disgusting." Bill spat to emphasize his statement. "You know I gotta daughter who's ten."

_Let's diffuse this now…_

"Ted." At his name, the shortest man of the group moved to a kneeling position. Alby pulled his satchel over his head. "You stay here and make sure they don't get any help. I understand Mr. Navarro is a cop and he might try to play hero."

"Mark Johnston is no slouch, either," Ted added. "He used to wrestle. I remember him getting a silver at the Nationals."

"At least we don't have to worry 'bout the cripple," Norton stated, laughing. "I'm not even gonna waste a bullet on him. It'd be like shootin' fish in a barrel."

Alby sensed it was going to be a difficult day. He hoped he'd be able to tolerate Norton that long. He hoped Ted wouldn't finally lose his patience and put a bullet in their friend's head, just to have some peace and quiet. _Good thing I'm keeping them separated._

"Okay, boys. I'll radio the rest of the club and get them in position. Let's go huntin', and let's make it memorable."

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**_2:17 PM  
On the Trail, Olympic National Park_**

The sun was warm as Melanie led her charges north through the forest. Immediately behind her was Caitlin, closely followed by her daughter, Carrie, and five of the other Girl Scouts. Three had stayed behind with the other leader, Suzy, and the two husbands. A man in a wheelchair she knew from Thompson to be Logan Cale had been doing something over at his vehicle when she'd arrived and there had barely been time for an introduction. His 'wife', Max, was currently acting as rearguard to her group. Melanie had a boyfriend in the military and had seen 'Platoon' at least a dozen times. She recognized the alert stance of someone on the watch for trouble. What she didn't see was a weapon of any kind.

"This is the third nest for this pair of eagles," she told them, careful to avoid a root on the path. "Watch out for that," she said, pointing to it. Everyone followed her instruction, automatically staring at it as if it might move when they stepped over it, lifting their feet higher than was really necessary. Most people were like that in the wilderness. Must be cautious, must be careful, must take a picture of everything…

Melanie noted that Max didn't fall in the category of 'most people'. The young woman performed a quick, lithe jump over the root with the confidence of a deer that knew the trail well. She didn't look at the root at all. Melanie would have missed that detail if she hadn't been paying attention.

Carrie had the group camera and was being very selective about how she filled the memory card. When they reached a level area in their climb, they paused for a short break and Carrie had everyone gather for a picture. Max offered to be the photographer but they insisted she pose with them, so it was Melanie who said, "Say cheese!"

They continued on for another hour, admiring the trees and looking desperately at the sky or a branch when Melanie spotted a bird. As far as the ranger could tell, Max was the only one who saw them all. They stopped for another rest when they reached a fenced marker at the top of a rise.

"From here, you can see the mountains very well," Melanie said, and stood back so the others could take in the view. Max glanced at the marker. The base was poured concrete with a pattern of stylized leaves scattered on the sides, as if they were falling from a nearby tree. The muted letters on the brass plaque needed a polish, as the weather had made an impression on the sturdy monument.

The plaque read: **_'This monument was revealed on June 21, 2005 in honor of the State of Washington and all her peoples, who strive to preserve and protect the peace and natural beauty of Olympic National Park. May we never be found wanting in our responsibility or forget the cycle of life that links us all to the Earth.' _**This statement was flowed by a quote:**_ '"I went to the mountains for strength and they crushed me. I confided in the rock as my friend and it denied me. I stood on top of the world and it humbled me. The greatest virtue that man learns from mountains is that he has not gone to the mountains to conquer them; rather, he has gone to the mountains to conquer himself."- Eric Trinka.'_**

"Cool," Beth whispered, as if they were in a library or on sacred ground.

_Library or sacred ground, _Max thought._ The latter might be the case_. _I'll have to remember this quote for Herbal._

Soleil nodded, sucking on yet another lollypop, and touched the letters with her fingers. "Picture," she said, and this time Max had Melanie pose with the group.

She glanced at her wristwatch: 3:22 PM.

"Can we stop here for a while?" Caitlin asked, pulling a pad of paper and a pencil from her knapsack. "I'd like to sketch this view."

"Sure," Melanie said, and the girls eagerly made themselves comfortable in a loose grouping near the marker. Caitlin knelt beside a rock and used its rough surface as a support for her pad. Melanie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, apparently savouring the smell of pine. "Max, did you want to rest, too, or would you like to see if we can catch a glimpse of the herd?"

"Herd?"

"Elk."

Max tilted her head to one side and smiled. "Sure. Just a sec."

She knew they'd been followed for the last hour. She knew that whoever it was watched them now, at a distance, waiting. And she knew that eight people other than her were vulnerable.

Max turned and moved to crouch beside Caitlin. She said, very carefully, quietly and urgently, "Caitlin? Don't look up and don't panic." The woman stiffened slightly but kept her pencil on the paper. "I'm just going with Melanie to look at something, but you need to know that I don't think we're alone out here. If anything happens or if I don't come back in ten minutes, get the girls and get the hell back to camp."

"Max -?"

"Just do it." Max placed her hand on the woman's forearm and their eyes met briefly. "Please."

Caitlin nodded, feeling the beat of her heart attempt to drown out her thoughts. She remembered how Max had saved Vernice and how capable and bright she seemed. If this young woman thought something was threatening them, Caitlin instinctively knew she was right. She tried to smile. "See you soon, then," she managed. Max gave her arm a quick squeeze then stood and joined Melanie in the taller grasses.

"Lead on," she said, gesturing with a wave of her hand for the ranger to start.

They walked in silence for about five minutes before Max stopped and asked casually, "What are they paying you?"

Melanie slowed and turned. "Pardon?"

"What are they paying you, to lure campers as far away from the ranger's protection as possible, so they can stretch their macho egos?"

Melanie stilled and studied the ground.

"They aren't paying me anything," she said quietly with a pained glance at Max. She sighed and looked exhausted. "They mailed me pictures of my parents, going shopping, walking the dog, having dinner with friends." She stopped and blinked furtively. Max was glad the young woman could control her tears because crying wasn't going to get her sympathy right now. "They said if I didn't help, they'd take them and torture them until I agreed to their demands."

"Who are they?"

"I don't know. Probably local, though." She smiled, almost shyly. "If it's any consolation, they aren't interested in the others, just you, and quite frankly, I don't think they'll be able to catch you."

Max snorted, and took in their surroundings. "Well, that's something, I guess. How many are there?"

The ranger slumped against a tree. "I don't know that, either. More than two, less than six… I think."

"Okay, so you're a victim, too, yadda, yadda. Look, I take it you're supposed to leave me looking for the elk herd or something, so they can get this thing going?" Melanie nodded, initially unable to speak at Max's acceptance of the situation. "Then you get back to Caitlin and the girls and get them to safety."

Melanie straightened and pushed away from the tree. "You knew."

"What?" Max was stretching her senses to locate the watchers.

"You knew this might happen. When you came here. You and that man, you're -"

"Bait," Max finished for her. "Now act like I want some time to myself and get your group back to camp."

The ranger offered her a watery smile. "When we get out of this, I'll set things right."

Max returned her smile with a genuine grin. "I know."

And watched helpless as the bullet pierced Melanie's forehead and she jerked backwards and dropped. The echo of the gunshot battered the trees. Max stared at the body, stunned, knowing she was supposed to be the target in this game. Someone had deliberately killed the ranger when they could have just as easily killed _her_.

_But where would the fun be in that?_ she thought wryly. _There wouldn't be a hunt, then…_

Her reverie only took seconds. Max grabbed the body, tossed it over her shoulder in a fireman's lift and ran for cover. All she could feel for the dead ranger was regret and anger. Regret that she couldn't have saved her and anger at the hunters for making the woman break her loyalty in the first place. Max could see Melanie's smiling face, hear her laugh as they returned to the campsite that morning.

_"I plan to have a big family someday. Might as well practise."_

"Shit." Max stopped in a tight cropping of fir trees and gently placed the body down. _I'll be back to get you, hun_, she thought, taking a few seconds to close the lids on the staring, empty blue eyes. _Your parents will be able to bury you properly._ She shook her head. _Damn, I'm gettin' soft. It's all Logan's fault._

Logan…

Bark splintered on a trunk near her; they had tracked her position.

Max turned and fled into the forest.

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Caitlin Johnston didn't think she was drawing very well but had gamely continued after Max's departure to capture the beauty before her. She jumped when she heard the gunshot and the pencil scrawled across the paper.

_Oh, God, _she thought faintly._ It hasn't even been ten minutes._ Quickly, she packed her things away and stood. "Girls, I don't want any arguments and I don't want you to panic, but we need to get back to camp. Right now."

The girls were on their feet already, looking in the direction Melanie and Max had travelled. They had heard the gunshot but didn't know what it meant, of course. Neither did Caitlin, really, though she had a better idea. Carrie spoke for them. "What about -"

_"Now."_

Startled, they grabbed their bags and moved.

"Quickly and quietly," Caitlin added. "And if anything happens, anything at all, run for the campsite and don't look back."

"Mom, you're scaring me." Carrie knew her mother wasn't joking. They _all _knew that, having been part of the troop long enough to realize that Mrs. Johnston wouldn't play a joke like this on them. This was serious. This was real.

"Carrie, I'm petrified myself right now." She followed the girls back down the hill, skidding a bit on the loose soil, making sure they stayed together. "Max said to return to camp if anything happened and something has definitely happened."

"But what about Max and Melanie?" Vernice asked shakily, continuing to hurry with the others.

"They're on their own," Caitlin stated, trying to watch where she stepped and be alert for danger at the same time. She found her daughter's hand and held it tightly as the group made its way through the forest. "They're big girls and can take care of themselves. I'm sure they're fine." She wondered whom she was trying to reassure.


	14. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Thirte...

**And the camping saga continues…**

**I would like to thank Alaidh, who Betaed in spite of a rather hectic schedule.**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing. It is, as always, appreciated.**

**I can't believe I wrote the first draft of this chapter four months ago. Time flies…**

**Enjoy!**

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**_"Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever."_**  
_-Gandhi_

**_Chapter Thirteen_**

**_3:45 PM  
Lena Creek Campsite_**

Sydney was tentatively leaning against the tailgate of the Aztek, not wanting to intrude by actually sitting on the air mattress. _That's their personal space_, she thought, her fifteen-year-old hormones imagining what… activities other than sleep occurred there. She looked over at the main tent, where the Suzy, Mr. Navarro, Mr. Johnston and Logan Cale were gathered around a picnic table, talking about politics, of all things. Logan looked so energized, so intense, so sexy -

Sydney huffed. _God, I need to vent. I wish I could have a blog like Mom did when she was my age…_

Her sister, Janie, sat on one of the folding chairs across from her, biting her lips in concentration, working on her fifth God's Eye. She was good at it and had the patience for the repetition it required. Katie sat beside her in an identical chair, almost red in the face from frustration at being unable to get the coloured yarn to cooperate. Janie was trying to help her friend, who insisted she knew what she was doing, and on and on…

_At least neither of them have to worry about boys yet_, Sydney mused, looking back at Logan. _Max sure is lucky…_

A loud, distant clap echoed back to them through the forest, from the north. The adults were instantly silent. Sydney straightened and told the other two to shut up. Miraculously, they did.

"I know that sound," Tony Navarro said, standing.

"Unfortunately," Logan said, wheeling back from the picnic table, "so do I."

Simultaneously, they pulled guns from somewhere in their respective clothing. Suzy would've laughed if the circumstances had been different. Mark stood and grabbed for the nearest weapon he could reach: a frying pan.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Suzy said, her hands raised to placate them. "One of the rangers could be target practising or putting an injured animal out of its misery or any number of things." The four hesitated, gauging one another's reactions, waiting.

Not a minute passed then another shot rang out.

"I'll call Sherry," Suzy stated, firmly taking the decision away from the others. _Too much testosterone here_, she thought as she reached for the walkie-talkie the ranger had given them after Vernice's close call the previous evening. She pushed a button. "Sherry, this is Suzy Navarro. I repeat this is Suzy Navarro at Lena Creek. Do you copy, over?" She released the button and sighed. _I sound like a deranged trucker._

There was a brief pause then a breathless voice said, _"This is Sherry. I read you, Suzy. Is everything all right? Are you calling about the shots?"_

"We're all fine here, thanks. How about you?"

_"I'm going to find Thompson and John and see if they know something I don't',"_ came Sherry's voice. From the sound of it, she was running on a wooden deck.

The blue pick-up chose this moment to surge down a hill from the west and clear a fallen log before skidding to a halt roughly in the centre of the campsite.

Suzy gaped but managed to push the button. "I think I see them," she said faintly.

Ranger Thompson lunged from the driver's seat and approached the picnic table. John left the vehicle more slowly, tentative, as if he had to confirm he was still alive.

"Is that Sherry?" he asked her. When she nodded, he held out his hand for the walkie-talkie. Suzy passed it to him, still a bit dazed from his entrance.

"Sherry, it's Thompson. I'm with John. We're at Lena Creek Campsite, over."

_"So I gathered, over."_

"Are you still at the station, over?"

_"I've just left the station and I'm heading towards the entrance, over."_

"Grab the rifle and all the ammunition you can find," Thompson said bluntly. "We have a situation, over."

_"A situation, over?"_

"A situation?"

Thompson glanced at Tony. "It's a long story."

"Let me make a guess and try to summarize." Heads swivelled to look at Logan. "Someone is hunting out of season and the wildlife isn't the target."

Suzy felt a little dizzy. "What?"

Logan wished he could reassure her. "If my guess is right, they're hunting Max."

The woman's eyes grew huge. _"What?"_

"Some of our group is with Melanie," Mark said urgently, thinking of his wife and daughter in particular. _If anything happened to them -_

"They went north," Sydney said, "to look at the eagle's nest." Thompson turned towards her. She had hurried over with Janie and Katie once the pick-up had come to a complete halt.

"Is Max with them?"

"Yes." He frowned. Sydney sighed. "Well, she _was_, anyway. How should I know? I'm not _there_. I'm _here_."

Logan recounted the clips he had stashed in the inside pocket of his jacket, trying to keep his hands steady and not to think about the danger Max was probably in. He had prepped his gun before she had left for the hike, wanting to be ready, just in case. Now he was stuck at the site and someone had managed to ensure they were separated. _Nothing I can do right now_, he thought grimly, his left hand resting on the wheel of his chair. "This is your turf. Recommendations?"

Thompson addressed the walkie-talkie. "Did you get all that, Sherry, over?"

_"Yep."_ They could hear a door bang open. _"Got the rifle and… the ammo."_ She grunted and they could hear her moving things around. _"Damn."_

"Sherry?"

_"Just checked the land line. It's dead."_ Another bang - the door closing, Logan presumed - and she was running again.

"Wait, I'll come get you, over."

_"Stay there, Thompson. Make sure the site's secure, over."_

"Roger. Out." The ranger looked down at Suzy, who thought she was small when compared with Mark, but felt even smaller now. He gave her the walkie-talkie. "Can you keep that? Check on Sherry?"

Suzy swallowed. _Get a grip, Suze. Caitlin and the others will be fine._ "Absolutely. Yes."

"Thank you."

"What's going on?" Janie asked quietly. Sydney placed herself between the two younger girls and wrapped an arm around each one.

"Everything's going to be fine," Suzy said, moving to stand with the girls. She knew she hadn't answered the question but she wasn't sure, exactly, what to say.

There was a pause in the conversation and Tony and Logan exchanged appraising looks. Tony nodded towards Logan's gun.

"Hmm. The Vector CP-1: Double action, thirteen rounds, made in South Africa." Suzy rolled her eyes despite their situation. "I take it you know how to use that thing?"

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Unfortunately, yes." Logan took in Tony's weapon. "Hmm. The Glock 19: Compact, fifteen rounds, not necessarily standard police issue these days, but effective. I take it you know how use it?"

Suzy could feel her jaw tense and she said through gritted teeth, "If you've finished the peeing contest -"

"I don't do guns," Mark said firmly.

"That's okay," John said, speaking for the first time. Suzy had almost forgotten he was there. "We don't have one to spare."

"So we have a rifle and two nine-millimetre handguns." No one disputed Thompson's statement.

"I've worked with less," Logan said. _Of course, I had Max around…_

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx _

**_3:49 PM_**  
_**On the Trail, Olympic National Park**_

****

She headed north.

_At least it's away from the campsite_, Max thought as she weaved through the trees. Somewhere in the last ten minutes, she was aware of a change in the weather as clouds were repeatedly blotting out the sun. _Probably going to rain. Figures._

Max hadn't been fired at since she'd left Melanie's body but she knew they weren't going to leave her alone. _Don't want to lose them, though_, she reminded herself, slowing a little. After all, the whole point of being in the conservation area in the first place was to try to catch those who had shot the son of a friend of an informant. Max frowned. _That sounds too distant_, she decided, a_nd a little cold._ _Besides, Matt Sung is probably as close to a friend as anyone Logan knows._ She recalled how Peter Hurst had looked when they'd left his hospital room: relieved. As far as he knew, Eyes Only, the vigilante hero of Seattle, would see justice done while Peter's police officer father stood helpless at the foot of his bed. He had faith. Max wanted to stop the hunting, but she also didn't want to disappoint him - or Eyes Only. She revised her previous objective: To _definitely_ catch the people who would treat a human being like an animal.

Another shot just missed her. _Thinking of you, Peter._ She smiled grimly, imagining what it must have been like for the young man. _He did track and field, huh?_ She vaulted over the trunk of a huge downed fir tree. The wind had picked up and the sun was gone. _No doubt he provided great sport, but they're gonna _love_ me…_

_Until _I_ catch _them_…_

Another shot. _They can't be moving that fast. It isn't possible. They'd have to be Manticore… or Reds from South Africa._ Max shivered. No. She wasn't going to think about those possibilities. Which left only one other option: more hunters than previously thought. She scanned the forest as she ran, guessing where someone could lie low and track a target. _So many places to hide._

Max kept as many trees between her and the ridge to her right as possible, which is why another bullet impacted with a trunk as opposed to her body. _Or was that a warning shot?_ She quickened her pace and made it to a rise in the ground. Several trees were in the process of toppling over the edge behind a small clearing. The spectacular view was lost to her now, but the wind wasn't, and neither was the steep drop. She'd have to turn back.

Then she saw the man, dressed in denim and leaning against a tree that stood away from the edge, with his feet crossed. He was casually smoking a cigarette and smiling at her, like she was an old friend he'd been expecting.

**_Because he was expecting you_**, her Inner Commentator proclaimed. **_You've been herded here._**

_At least we're far away from the site, and Caitlin will have got the girls back safely when I didn't return._

"Good afternoon," the man said, unfolding himself from his lounging position. The rifle hung from the crook of his right arm, barrel pointed down. He wore a small, expensive-looking earpiece. _Wired for communication. _"You made good time."

"I had good incentive," she replied, tugging lightly at her leather jacket. "This cost me a week's pay. I don't want holes in it."

The man actually laughed. "It _is_ a nice jacket. Looks good on you, honey."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. Logan would have recognized it as a dangerous sign - maybe. Sometimes, he could be so oblivious. "My name's not 'honey'."

"That's right," the man said, nodding amiably. "It's Max Guevara, and you and your husband are enjoying the fine spring weather, far from the safety of Seattle." The sky chose this moment to rumble in the distance. "Though it does look like rain."

"Why did you kill Melanie?"

"I didn't, actually. That was someone else, who you'll meet later, if all goes well."

"Well for you, I take it?"

"I know he hopes so." His eyes dragged themselves over her body. "And I can understand why."

Max's skin crawled. _I'm gonna need a hot shower after this is done._

"You're sick, you know that?"

"Oh, we're not into corpses," came another male voice to her right. She'd known he was there but hadn't bothered acknowledging his presence. Why give them more information about her abilities than they needed? This man approached and stood to the left of the other. A communication device identical to the first man's was in his left ear. He was dressed in similar attire but his features were less refined than his friend. _I wonder how many times he's broken his nose?_ Max thought idly, wrinkling her nose. _And how many beers he's had?_ Regardless of his alcohol consumption, his rifle was pointed steadily at her chest. "We get into… other things." He obviously thought that was funny and chuckled.

"That's worse," she stated, giving him the most disgusted look she could muster. She saw his knuckles whiten on the stock.

"Let's keep this civilized, Norton," the first man said quietly. Max wasn't sure if she was supposed to have heard that or not, but didn't care.

"Hunting people in the park is civilized? They've got a recent edition of Webster's out, ya know, and 'civilized' isn't the right word to describe this at all."

"A mouthy one," Norton said, apparently regaining his good mood and grinning. "I bet she's a screamer."

Max smiled tightly. "You'll never know."

"Don't be so sure, honey," the first man said. "We know what we're doing."

"What you're _doing_ is pissing me off. For the second time, my name isn't 'honey' and I suggest you stop using it."

"Would you like us to call you 'Max', then? Or is there some other name we should use?" The first man took a long drag on his cigarette and flicked it away. "A pet name, perhaps, something your husband would call you."

"Max is fine." She nodded in the direction of the cigarette. "We're in a park, ya know. Don't wanna start a fire." Alby blew out the remaining smoke through his nose.

"Is Smokey the Bear gonna eat us if we do?" Norton asked mockingly. There was a snort from her left and she then knew for certain where three of them were. There were others nearby, though, on the route back. It was that or the drop behind her…

"So, you know _my_ name," Max said conversationally. "What's _yours_?"

"No harm in that. It's Alby." He took a step towards her, his friendly mood fading abruptly. "You're pretty fast. I think this is going to be a good hunt."

"And what's stopping me from running away and _not_ playing your game?"

"You're married to a slow moving target," Norton growled. "And we know exactly where he is."

Logan. _Shit._

"If you don't co-operate," Alby continued, moving closer. "All I have to do is give the order."

_Those damn earpieces -_

"And your cripple is permanently immobile." Norton laughed at his own wit.

_Cripple?_ Max knew she could reach the man's throat and would love nothing better than to do so and _squeeze_… but unfortunately any one of them would have time to order Logan's death. Even if they were bluffing and they didn't really have someone watching him, she couldn't take the chance.

She recalled her words to Logan back in Seattle without any satisfaction: _"These guys are organized, well-armed psychos."_

"So, Max," Alby said quietly, stopping about two feet away. "What's it going to be? Are you going to play nicely?"

Max took a small step back and tested the ground behind her by shifting her weight. Almost at the edge. She thought of the information Peter Hurst had given them about his attackers. "Does this mean you're giving me a head start?"

"It does if we're agreed."

"Oh, I'll play your game," she said.

"Fine. Then if you'll just start heading west -"

"But not by your rules," she said quickly and stepped back.

The two men watched, astonished, as she dropped away from them. They looked over the edge, expecting to see the prone figure of an injured or dead woman. What they saw was a woman straightening and turning, very clearly giving them the finger.

Norton looked uncertain, but Alby smiled. "This is gonna be good," he said.

Max paused long enough to return the smile from forty feet below. "Catch me if you can!" she called out then ran in as southerly a direction as the terrain would allow.

* * *


	15. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Fourte...

**I will start by apologizing for the delay in posting this chapter. Real Life snagged me again as I innocently walked by and dragged me into Home Renovation. It happens… ;)**

**My thanks to Alaidh, Almighty Beta, who has been very patient with me. :)**

**I appreciate all the reviews on both of my current stories. I freely admit that 'Thoughts in the Dark' has eaten what little time I've had for writing of late - and it _still_ isn't done.**

**I can only hope you continue to wander through the woods, waiting for the next instalment of this camping mystery.**

**Enjoy!**

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

_**"I took one drought of life** _

_**I'll tell you what I paid**_

**_Precisely an existence_**

**_The market price, they said."_**

_-Emily Dickinson_

**_Chapter Fourteen_**

**_4:11 PM_**  
**_Olympic National Park_**

Ominous clouds gathered like huge columns of smoke, writhing through the sky and building with increasing force over the forest. The wind was stronger now, consistently making the tips of tall trees bow in recognition of the approaching storm. As wisps of dark hair blew across Max's face, she marvelled at the power she could feel in the air, and smiled grimly when a distant roll of thunder skimmed the canopy of branches like the seeking fingers of vengeance.

_Mother Nature is gonna have a freak-out_, she concluded, and vaulted another log.

Since leaving Alby and his entourage, Max had kept a steady pace, reluctant to burn all her energy too quickly in her anxiety to return to Lena Creek Campground. Besides, the gunshots would have been heard, if not completely understood, and anyone within range would be on the alert. Caitlin and the girls would soon be able to confirm for the others that the afternoon had definitely gone sideways.

_They'd better get back safe_, Max thought, imagining her fellow campers as they hurried through the forest. She could picture them from the campfire the night before, energized by the sugar in the hot chocolate, singing the raucous songs as loudly as possible - much to the chagrin of the adults - and ending with a round of 'Kumbaya'. Max had found that piece strange at first then oddly moving. The calming tone of their voices and the way the girls had linked hands around the fire was almost more important than the words.

Max frowned as she followed what was obviously a well-worn hiking path. _If those hunters try anything on the girls, I'll make them regret ever picking up a water pistol when they were ten, never mind a gun._

Thinking of guns made her think of Logan. She tried not to dwell on the images that circled her mind, but it wasn't easy.

She could recall Logan clearly, as if it were yesterday, holding a gun and flashlight on her in his apartment that first, fateful meeting - standing tall, confident, and ready to defend those who couldn't defend themselves.

It was an odd sensation, seeing him that close, recognizing that Eyes Only, vigilante representative of Justice and Seattle celebrity, was not ten feet away from her. She had briefly wondered if she should ask for his autograph then settled for giving him a quick compliment instead.

Then she was gaping at the hoverdrone footage with the others at Jam Pony, watching as the man called Peter went down despite his visible bulletproof vest, watching as Eyes Only fell to the ground and had the little girl torn from his arms.

Logan, in the hospital, unconscious, vulnerable.

_Paralysed from the waist down._

Guns were responsible for her initial involvement with his crusade against crime.

Guns were the reason she was moving briskly through a national park, not bothering to seek cover from the approaching storm, not bothering with her own comfort at all. Running: the hunted seeking the hunters.

Thinking about Logan and Justice and Girl Scouts.

And guns.

_Melanie…_

"Damn it," she muttered and paused to assess her route, taking a moment to marvel at the sky.

The flutter of wings startled her, not because there was suddenly a bird on a low branch of the fir tree only a few feet away, but because it was an _owl_.

She managed a smirk.

"Aren't you out a little early?"

The owl regarded her calmly with dark eyes, unconcerned with her proximity, and edged its way along the branch towards her. Max watched, fascinated, as the bird stopped, looked at her, then moved back the way it had come.

_Follow me…_

"You have _got_ to be joking."

Feathers were ruffled, as if it were indignant about her statement.

Max sighed. If her day got any weirder…

She took a tentative step forward. The owl climbed across the trunk, claws scrabbling faintly against the bark, balancing with its wings until it reached another branch and proceeded to walk along it. She followed. It seemed to be checking periodically to ensure she was still there, swivelling its head in that unnerving manner owls have where it appears their necks have been snapped in a horrible accident.

This pattern continued for several minutes. Max wondered exactly why she was taking the time to investigate the curiosities of the wildlife, but she felt compelled to continue. They left the path and she had to duck under low hanging branches, trying not to slide on the steep climb full of slippery pine needles. Max sensed this was important, somehow. Whether it was her Manticore training, or the instincts she had inherited from her complicated genetic background that made her bother, she couldn't tell.

Finally, she found herself at eye-level with the owl, which had stopped their strange journey and seemed to be appraising her. She was still trying to decide whether or not it was the same owl she'd encountered near the raised toilets the night before when a crunching sound caught her attention.

Moving forward very carefully, she crouched down and used her genetically enhanced vision to locate the source.

_Bingo._

A man sat on the ground with his back to her, wearing camouflage gear. She could see the butt of a rifle he had placed across his lap, as his hands were occupied with getting every oily morsel from a bag of potato chips.

Max and the owl exchanged a glance. At any other time, in any other place, she would have questioned her sanity, but the owl's eyes held a hint of starlight where there was none to reflect and she silently nodded once.

With exquisite care and grace, she stood and crossed the forest floor. The trees creaked in the wind and helped disguise any noise she might have made that could alert him, but she knew he was oblivious. No one concerned for their safety would be so fixated on turning a bag of chips inside out to lick the foil.

One sharp crack to the back of his skull with a handy branch, part of the litter from the winter storms, and he slumped forward, unconscious. Max released the branch and got a hold of his rifle, pulling it from his lap before he hit the ground. She emptied the chamber and tossed it into the bushes, disgusted.

_Ah-ha_, she thought with satisfaction, and removed his earpiece, placing it on her own head. She wondered how long it would take for the hunters to realize they were down a man, and how much information she could gather before they knew their communications had been compromised.

A quick scan showed a hunting knife, which she appropriated, and a meal bar he had yet to open. Her stomach growled as she removed the wrapper and wolfed it down.

The fish had been hours ago.

Tucking the litter into her jacket pocket, she searched his duffle bag but found no rope with which to tie him. She sighed, and looked back at the owl.

It waited for her patiently.

"Does it have to be this complicated?"

The owl didn't even blink.

"Right," she muttered, and proceeded to strip the hunter and truss him with his own clothing.

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_4:11 PM,_**

**_Lena Creek Campsite_**

"Okay." Tony assessed their small collection of weapons and glanced at Logan before saying, "We have three weapons and people trained to use them."

"No," Thompson said. "We have departing civilians and three rangers with training."

Everyone spoke at once. The volume of the objections made it nearly impossible to understand what was being said, but Logan decided the ranger didn't need a diagram to figure it out.

"Now just a goddamned -"

"I don't think so -"

"I'm not leaving Max and that's final."

"But Carrie's out there -"

"If you think for one minute -"

"That's enough!" Thompson roared and they complied, each glaring at him in defiance.

"We're not leaving without our friends," Katie said firmly in the sudden silence, and she folded her arms and gave him that look to make it clear she was serious. Thompson sighed. Logan wondered if the throbbing vein in the ranger's forehead hurt.

"Sherry? You and John stay here. You'll be safer if you stick together." His eyes swept the odd collection of individuals. "I'll find our missing campers."

One of Tony's eyebrows lifted. "Unarmed?"

"I don't need a gun to hunt what I'm hunting." He stepped closer to the vacationing officer and stated, "No heroics." He glanced at Logan and Mark to include them in this order, but it really seemed to be focussed on Tony.

With a terse nod to Sherry, he left the campsite at a light jog, heading north.

Thunder chose this moment to roll across the sky like an avalanche. Everyone looked up.

"Great," Sydney muttered. Suzy pulled the girls over to the main tent. Logan gathered from her gestures that she was going to keep them busy locking the site down for the storm. _Maybe it'll keep their minds off this situation, _he thought.

"So," Tony began, turning towards him, his expression unreadable, "someone is hunting people, huh?" He tugged his windbreaker closer to his body and pulled the zipper up sharply. "You knew, didn't you? You and that girl, when you came here, you _knew_?"

Mark moved towards them from where he was consulting with Sherry and John. "Tony, there are kids -"

The officer's eyes didn't leave Logan as he said, "They _knew_, Mark. Didn't think to warn us about it, oh no."

"We're here to stop them," Logan stated evenly. "And Max can handle herself."

"I don't really care about your precious Max, Mr. Journalist. I care about -"

A large hand cuffed him across the back of the head. He turned his glare on his friend.

"Tony," Mark said carefully, as if speaking to someone who was obviously slow on the uptake, "there are kids here, and they're scared enough. Lighten up." He met the glare then went to join Suzy and the girls as they carried items into the main tent.

Logan watched as the gears changed in the man before him.

"This reminds me of a movie," Tony stated suddenly, his tone light and vastly different from before. _A mercurial cop. Wonder how he interacts at the precinct?_ Suzy groaned as she walked by, no doubt used to her husband's changes.

"Figures it would," she said and kept moving. He picked up a folding chair and held it while he spoke. Logan didn't think he was talking to anyone in particular.

"'The Most Dangerous Game', 1932. Directed by Irving Pichel. Starred Joel McCrea as a big game hunter deliberately shipwrecked on the island of the mysterious Count Zaroff."

"This is relevant to our situation in what way, exactly?" Logan inquired coolly.

"Count Zaroff is one of those bored, aristocratic types," Tony continued, not missing a beat. "He can only get satisfaction out of hunting the most dangerous prey."

"That would be human, I take it?"

Tony regarded him with a look that reminded Logan of his Film professor during his first semester at university.

"You don't watch movies much, do you, Mr. Journalist?"

"Kinda busy trying to be relevant," Logan stated, nodding to the chair Tony was holding. "Shouldn't you be taking that somewhere?" The officer frowned at him. "I could tell you where to put it," he offered amiably.

Suzy arrived in time to steer her husband towards the activity just as his face became a reflection of the storm above.

Logan sat in his wheelchair and watched as the site became devoid of anything but huddled tents and an Aztek. He stared up at the sky, knowing Max would be alright - _hoping _Max would be alright. She had hunting skills that outstripped the knowledge of the average person, whether they were a hobbyist or had formal military training.

"Fay Wray was in that movie, too," he heard Tony say from somewhere nearby, but it was the quiet presence of Caitlin's husband Mark standing in front of him that finally drew his attention away from his musings.

"You need help with your vehicle?"

Logan found his key ring and aimed it at the car. The headlights flashed. "Nope. All locked up."

Sherry cupped her hand and shouted over the wind, "In the tent, everyone."

Logan sighed and placed his gun back in his jacket. Grabbing the wheels, he followed Mark into the tent.

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_4:39 PM,_**

**_On the Trail, Olympic National Park_**

They had stopped for a quick rest.

Carrie thought she'd spotted a marmot at the edge of the path and called over her shoulder, "Be right back, Mom," before moving to where she'd last seen the small mammal.

"Don't wander," her mother admonished, but Vernice asked her a question and Soleil wanted to go to the bathroom so she was distracted long enough that Carrie slipped away.

Small shiny eyes stared at her as she approached.

"Aren't you sweet?" Carrie cooed. It helped to think of something other than running from a danger that they didn't even really understand, beyond the gunshot, of course -

A flash of fur and the marmot darted from her view.

"Hey!" She moved forward only to be blocked by the body of a man who loomed above her in the dark forest.

Carrie did what every normal, seventeen-year-old girl would do under similar circumstances.

She screamed.

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	16. Getting Away From It All: Chapter Fiftee

November 13, 2005: Does anyone remember **this** story? LOL!

I started rewriting this chapter in May 2005. **May! **Other story ideas and Real Life have prevented me from getting back to the woods but I'm determined to wrap this up before Christmas, so here goes. There will probably be a few more chapters after this one.

My thanks to Alaidh, the Almighty Beta, for enduring the process with a smile. :)

I appreciate everyone who has supported me during my various forays into the 'Dark Angel' universe. Thank you. :)

_January 2, 2005: So much for wrapping this up before Christmas… ;)_

January 8, 2006: And another year is upon us… (Shakes head) I wish it hadn't taken me so long to get back here. In fact you, uh, might want to reread the last two chapters before continuing… (Guilty look)

_January 15, 2006: Finally ready! Thank you, Alaidh!_

_Enjoy!_

**Getting Away From It All**

**By Lilmouse**

_**"We shall not cease from exploration  
And the end of all our exploring  
Will be to arrive where we started  
And know the place for the first time."**_

_-T. S. Elliot_

**Chapter Fifteen**

_**4:41 PM,  
On the Trail, Olympic National Park**_

Caitlin Johnston didn't know she could still move that fast until she heard her daughter scream.

She dodged trees and sprinted across the forest floor with a speed and agility she didn't have time to admire. _I'll have to tell Mark_, she thought, almost dizzy from the adrenalin. _He's always encouraging me to work out more…_

Carrie stood on the path before her, the bulk of a large man waiting a few feet away, arms at his sides.

"Carrie -"

"It's okay, Mom." The girl turned and smiled. "It's -"

"Ranger Thompson!" Caitlin placed an arm around her daughter's shoulders and tried to catch her breath, regarding the man with a combination of relief and suspicion. Behind her, the other girls arrived with a noise level reminiscent of a slumber party on too much sugar. She absently noted she'd have to discuss 'forest stealth' with them before they went to see the elk herd - _if_ they went to see the elk herd at all. "There were gun shots -"

"I know," he said, looking grim. "I'm here to escort you back to camp. Everything is going to be fine."

Caitlin immediately suspected the exact opposite. "Have you seen Melanie or Max?"

Ranger Thompson hesitated. He had the look of a man who was deciding which would be the best response: the truth or an evasive answer.

"No. I didn't encounter anyone on the way to find you."

"Then where are they?" Soleil asked impatiently.

"Maybe they went back to camp," Carrie suggested, looking to her mother for confirmation that this was a viable option. "When they heard the shots, they just took a different route."

"Yeah," Anna said, too quickly, "that makes sense."

"It's possible." Caitlin waved the girls ahead of her. "Regardless, Lena Creek is where we should be." They hurried by in a disorganized jumble and, when they continued to chatter, she added, "Quietly, now." Caitlin nodded to the ranger, who turned and led them silently down the path they had climbed not long ago, when the sun had been shining just right to keep off the spring chill.

Vernice was the last to pass her. She whispered, "Max and Melanie are still back there, aren't they?"

The wind whipped at their hair. It was going to rain soon and the path would become more difficult to traverse. Caitlin didn't want to waste any time but she had always professed to her troop that honesty was the best policy and she wasn't about to change that now. "I don't know, honey." It was the only answer she could give.

Carrie exchanged a quick glance with her mother then took Vernice's hand and hurried after the others.

Caitlin followed. Before the path turned south, she looked behind her, hoping to see two figures appear, waving, breathless from running to catch up. The only living thing she noticed amongst the trees was a marmot, scurrying up the hill towards the monument where the troop had stopped briefly not two hours before.

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_**4:42 PM,  
On the Hunt, Olympic National Park**_

Alby Ferguson was not having a very good day.

He had been enjoying the hunt of a lifetime - and possibly the final hunt of an unfortunately brief season - but his quarry was not being co-operative. If only there was some way to communicate his intensions thoroughly, so an understanding could be established. A possible option occurred to him.

The athletic young woman named Max would start behaving properly for the chase or he'd start shooting Girl Scouts.

He would hold onto her husband as a last resort. Alby figured once he was dead, there would be nothing with which to seriously bargain. And the girls were innocent, helpless. Who would wish to condemn them to such a fate? Max seemed to have a conscience and that would be her undoing.

Melanie, the ranger, had become a liability and was therefore an unfortunate but necessary death. He didn't want to kill the unwary, however. Neither did any of his boys. No conscience held their fire, nor did they feel remorse once their target was dead.

If there weren't a _chase_ first, the excitement of the hunt, the prey fully aware that _this_ was a race for life, then what, really, would be the point?

Alby finished his third cigarette in a row and butted it against the side of a tree. His doctor had told him to quit, or at least cut down. He decided he wouldn't stop for another smoke until after the storm.

"Alby -"

"Shut up, Norton," he said calmly, dismissively.

"I can't reach Scott -"

"He's probably eating again."

" - or Chris."

"He's probably relieving himself and doesn't have a free hand."

"What?"

Alby sighed. How many beers had Norton consumed?

"He's taking a piss, Norton. Do you understand that phrase?"

Norton thought about it. "Yeah…"

"Good. Now shut up." Alby squinted through the growing gloom, as if he could see his target. "I'm thinking…"

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_**4:43 PM,  
Lena Creek Campground**_

The lantern was the only source of light inside the tent. It had been placed on one of the folding tables in the middle and nine people were huddled around it for lack of anything else on which to focus.

Outside, the wind raged and tugged at the fabric. The sky rumbled again, echoing like huge drum rolls through the park. The atmosphere inside was tense. Tony had become subdued, ceasing his movie trivia in favour of quiet contemplation. He had one arm protectively around his wife's shoulders and the other around Janie's. Sydney sat beside her sister with Sherry to her right.

Across from them were Katie, John and Mark. Logan completed the circle and, being the last to arrive, was closest to the opening. He regarded each member of the group, weighing how they were coping with the situation and trying to figure out what, if anything, they should do next. Staying together and under shelter while they waited for Ranger Thompson to return was a logical choice, but it chafed him to be inactive. If he were on his own, perhaps he would have driven through the park, roads permitting, trying to find signs of the missing people.

_Max…_

He remembered how she had looked when last he saw her, getting ready to join the group to explore the wildlife. She'd seemed a bit uncertain about leaving, as if she shouldn't be enjoying herself without him. They were here to catch a killer, after all, not to check on the status of the eagle population.

"You okay with this?" she had asked quietly, not commenting directly on how he had retrieved his gun and ammunition from his knapsack.

"No problem," had been his brief reply, loading the Vector CP-1 and tucking it into one of the pockets of his jacket. Noting her look of doubt, he'd added, "We'll get them, Max. Think of this as guard duty, if you like, protecting the group on the hike."

Max had snorted. "I guess it'll be exercise."

"Hey." He had placed a hand on her arm and found a smile to share with her, despite his concern about letting her leave the campsite. "Try to have some fun, too."

A small grin had been his reward. "I'll do my best, darling." He was stunned when she had leaned in quickly to kiss him softly on the lips. "They're watching," she'd reminded him, her breath warm against his skin. He hadn't been able to think of anything to say that would adequately match his emotions at having her so close, but managed to nod.

_Max…_

**_You got her into this_**, his Inner Voice commented.

Logan clenched his jaw. _Don't start._

**_What are you going to do now? Wait for someone else to do your job?_**

_Don't you think I feel bad enough already? _Logan silently consulted his wristwatch. _I'll wait a bit longer and see where things are then._

His Inner Voice made a sound of disgust and hunched back down with his guilt.

Sherry chose this moment to stand, the stock of the rifle gripped tightly in her right hand.

"I'm gonna just walk the perimeter," she announced and stepped outside, closing the flap behind her.

John stood abruptly and muttered, "I better make sure she's okay," before following his supervisor. When Mark moved beside him as if to follow, Logan said, "No, you stay here. I'll get them back inside." He was surprised but pleased when the man nodded in agreement.

The storm was upon them, bringing the dusk early. The air was heavy, the rain imminent. Logan glanced at the dark clouds that stewed above them and wondered why they weren't already soaking the earth. He saw Sherry, walking slowly around the southern edge of the campground. John wasn't with her. Logan guessed he was patrolling along the northern side and that they would meet, report and circle back covering the territory the other had just traversed to ensure all was secure.

Logan took a moment to pull on his gloves before wheeling as quickly as he could towards the north.

He found John, standing with his back to the area, talking to himself.

"Well, they have to be _somewhere_," the young ranger was saying. "Bobby and Tyler aren't the sort to get distracted."

Logan stopped suddenly about ten feet away, curious, as it registered to him that John wasn't talking to himself at all. He thought that none of their cellular phones were strong enough to get a signal outside the park. Logan's fingers tightened on the tires.

**_John isn't using a cell phone_**, his Inner Voice whispered.

"Hey!"

Logan watched with a growing uncertainty as Katie joined them. John turned and smiled.

"You should stay in the tent," he said, sounding concerned. Katie ran passed Logan and was out of his reach in a flash, hands on her hips, standing defiantly toe-to-toe with the ranger.

"So should _you_," she stated firmly. "You're gonna get soaked!" She looked around. "Where's Sherry?"

"You know, maybe you folks should leave," John said, shaking his head.

"I'm not leaving," Logan stated flatly.

"This is dangerous," John said, placing his left hand on Katie's shoulder and turning her around to face Logan. She protested the move but his fingers gripped her firmly. "You'd be safer to go and have us investigate. We'd just be worried that you'd get hurt."

"We need to stick together." Logan watched the younger man closely. How old was he? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? "None of us are going until we know that everyone is alright."

John's gaze fell to the wheelchair. "I don't think there's much _you_ could do, sir, with this terrain being so uneven." He extended his other hand. "But if you give me your gun and ammo, I'll put it to good use." And took a step forward.

Logan considered the hold the ranger had on Katie and wondered, not for the first time, who he could trust. He wasn't about to surrender his gun, but his instincts told him that if he gave it to anyone, it wouldn't be John.

"If it's all the same to you," he said carefully. "I think I'll keep it."

In that moment, the sky unleashed its fury and Logan found himself fighting for his life.

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	17. Chapter 17

**January 28, 2006: Another chapter of the camping mystery. I might be getting faster at this, lol!**

**Thank you, Alaidh, for clearing a path through the woods with me as Amazing Beta. :)  
**

**Thank you to all who read and all who feel comfortable reviewing. I don't want to become a broken record with this line but your feedback really is greatly appreciated.**

_February 13, 2006: Almost Valentine's Day. Between some medical issues and a computer crash of sorts, this chapter is only just getting finished. It was mostly done before the week in hospital then was being polished at the end of January - just before I lost it when a hard drive failed. Good thing I'd printed out the story so far or I would still be chewing on my recollections and thrashing through the underbrush._

_It's going off to my Amazing Beta, Alaidh, tonight if I have to commit homicide in order to accomplish it. ;)_

**February 18, 2006: Okay, this time it's really going off to Alaidh! (Waves to Amazing Beta). In case anyone wonders, no homicide was committed during the completion of this chapter. ;)**

_March 11, 2006: Okay, this is silly! So much for being faster, lol! My thanks to Alaidh, who Betaed despite a hectic month, and to those who still read this story._

_Enjoy!_

**Getting Away From It All**

**By Lilmouse**

_**"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival."**  
- Jack Lewis_

**Chapter Sixteen**

_**4:43 PM,  
Olympic National Park**_

Max wasn't sure how much longer it would be before her adversaries realized that, not only were their numbers depleting, but she was using one of their own com devices and had been following their every move.

_For a guy who says he's a seasoned hunter, he's sure slow on the uptake._

**_He ain't used to his prey havin' your trainin', boo_**, her Inner Commentator observed.

_True enough._

She had dispatched six men so far, each time with sufficient swiftness and force that none had the opportunity to alert anyone. They weren't dead but they wouldn't be getting into the action any time soon.

_Hobbyists._

The one named 'Colin' - assuming he was wearing his own jacket - lay sprawled at her feet. He'd managed a few swings before going down, landing a hit on her nose, resulting in blood. This had irked her sufficiently that she had been none too gentle ending the fight.

His jacket read 'Hoodsport Gas and Grocery' and his name was embroidered beneath it.

**_Maybe he needs a label 'cause he keeps forgettin' who he is._**

Max snorted at her Inner Commentator and then gave the man one last kick before removing his earpiece and adding it to the others in her pocket. She secured his feet with his belt and his hands with the sleeves of his jacket. A towel from his knapsack made an efficient gag.

Improvisation was the key to survival.

_I need food._ She rummaged through the rest of Colin's knapsack and found an apple. She took a bite and chewed but couldn't enjoy the sweetness. _Energy in, energy now. _She wished she could communicate with Logan, warn him and let him know what was going on. _If anything happens to him, I'll never forgive myself._

She finished the apple and tossed the core into the woods, forcing herself not to dwell on what she couldn't change.

"_Anjai, do you copy?"_

There was a tissue crumpled in the pocket of her jacket and she used it to wipe the blood from her nose as she ran the name through her head. _Anjai, Anjai… have I taken care of him yet?_

"_Anjai, respond!"_ Silence.

Max smiled. _Guess I have._

The owl that had led her to the first hunter and kept her company during her subsequent fights had flown away once 'Colin' had been dispatched. Max scanned the area but could see no sign of it. The whole concept that the bird was consciously assisting her persisted despite her natural cynicism towards anything mystical.

It didn't matter if she believed, of course. Coincidence had a habit of trailing her, to the extent that, in her quiet moments at Logan's apartment, sipping one of his prized wines and listening to him talk about the pre-Pulse world, she wondered if some master plan was in the works.

After all, how many coincidences were required before they became patterns in a bigger picture?

How many things had to fall into place for her to meet Logan? How many things continued to happen that drew them together?

**_Don't go gettin' all metaphysical on my ass_**, her Inner Commentator warned. **_We've got ourselves a situation here._**

_Hey, we're beatin' the odds. What could go wrong?_

**_Don't ask that -_**

"_Well, hello there, pretty lady."_

The voice of Alby, the apparent leader, purred over her stolen earpiece. Max snapped her head around, expecting him to be in visual range. She knew she could find him if she had enough time. A quick scan came up empty.

_Shit._

_"You can't see me, but I can certainly see you. Been having a good time? It's over now, honey."_

"My name isn't 'honey'," she muttered and bolted for the trees.

The bullet missed her by almost a foot.

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_**4:47 PM,**_  
**_Lena Creek Campground_**

Several things happened at once. 

With a streak of light and a roar of thunder, the storm descended.

John made a desperate lunge for Logan, hands grasping his jacket, intent on the gun he knew was there. The wheelchair rocked dangerously then tipped backwards. Three people fell to the ground. Katie screamed.

Logan struggled to prevent the younger man from reaching his goal. He grabbed hold of the gun only the have his opponent's hand close over his and try to pull the weapon free. It left him with only one arm to defend himself.

His upper body strength had certainly developed since being in the chair, but he didn't know how he would fare in a fight. Anything physical like this had last been challenged before his injury. He'd never been known as a fighter, but he was used to using his legs to manoeuvre and it just wasn't possible anymore.

A sweep of his elbow took care of John's earpiece. It dropped out of Logan's visual range. The rain pelted the campsite and quickly made it impossible for him to see through his glasses. It didn't matter for long, though. John rolled them over several times, away from the wheelchair, and his glasses joined the earpiece in the mud. He was aware that Katie had been pulled from the initial tangle of bodies. He knew the others had left the tent and caught glimpses of figures, heard shouts. It became difficult to absorb anything around him when a hand snaked its way to his throat and started to squeeze.

_Mustn't let him get the gun, mustn't let him get the gun._

**_You're dead if he gets the gun -_**

He wouldn't let go. John managed to pull the Vector free of the jacket and slammed Logan's hand into the ground a few times in a desperate attempt to get him to release. The pain was sharp and helped Logan focus. He was able to shift his weight sufficiently that John temporarily lost his balance and slacked the grip on his throat. An angry young face suddenly filled his blurred vision as it moved in close to gloat.

Logan was running out of options. With great effort, he took advantage of this moment and slammed his forehead into the younger man's nose. John yelped and pulled back. Somehow Logan was able to find enough energy to take a swing at him with his right fist, which was still white-knuckled around the gun. There was a crack when the butt impacted and John released a raw shriek before falling backwards.

Logan heard a thud as the body hit the ground. He lay on his back, winded and soaked, with an incredible headache forming. No doubt there would also be bruising. He stared up into the unrelenting rain and wondered idly if he'd ever be able to move again. Resigned to the inevitable, he rolled onto his side and stared at his wheelchair, which was also on its side about eight feet away.

Someone was lifting the chair, moving it closer to where he lay and his pride was too exhausted to take offence. _They let me finish the fight myself_, he thought, strangely elated. _As Max would say, it's all good._ He looked up and recognized Suzy's face in the gloom. She locked the brakes and waited patiently while he pulled himself into the seat. She didn't offer to assist any further but her presence spoke of her concern. It wasn't until he was settled that he noticed the lack of human voices. Nature was thrumming around him but the others were silent now. Only the occasional moan punctuated the campground: John.

When he squinted through the rain, Logan could see Tony. He was holding Katie protectively, his Glock trained on the young ranger. Mark held John firmly from behind by the elbows so he couldn't make any sudden moves. Sherry was beside Tony, her expression grim. She was breathing hard from running, but her rifle was aimed steadily at John.

"Thank you, Mr. Cale, Mr. Navarro, Mr. Johnston," she said with a chilling calm. "Damn it, Thompson was right."

"You suspected him?" Logan asked, adjusting his position in the chair and wincing at the amount of pain in his back. _I better not need more surgery_, he thought, fuming. He accepted the towel Suzy gave him and wiped away the worst of the mud from his head and hands. A part of him wondered why he bothered. The storm would soon purge him of any dirt and leave him cold and clean. His fingers were already numb. He placed the gun in his lap and relaxed his grip, flexing his knuckles experimentally.

"Thompson did." Sherry stared down at John, who was unsuccessfully trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose. Mark's grip hindered him but the ex-wrestler didn't look concerned with the comfort of his prisoner.

The rain poured on the tableau of guns and exhausted participants. It stung Logan's skin and hit the ground so hard it bounced up in varying patterns, like a randomly programmed fountain display. A hand touched his shoulder and he squinted at Suzy then at the item she was offering: his glasses.

"Thanks." He shrugged, smiled gently and tucked them into a pocket of his jacket. "They'll be useless until the weather clears, though." Suzy gave him a nervous smile in return then gathered Katie, Sydney and Janie, pulling them away from the confrontation, no doubt trying to reduce their exposure to the violence. They stood tensely, watching, waiting.

"How many are there, John?" Sherry continued. "Who is their target this time?" She glanced at Logan then returned her gaze to the man who had betrayed them. "Is it Max?"

John managed a strangled laugh. "Like I'm gonna tell you."

He probably didn't expect the kick to his kidneys. Tony watched him unsympathetically as he writhed, his upper body supported by Mark, his knees digging patterns in the mud.

"And there'll be more of that," the Tacoma cop said casually," if you don't start talking."

Sherry's eyes slid between him and their prisoner, obviously uncertain, despite their circumstances, of legal lines being crossed. Tony didn't seem to be bothered at all.

"I'm not gonna rat on my dad," John blurted angrily, trying to regain control of his breathing - and realised immediately that he'd unwittingly provided important information. His face paled further, making the blood on his skin seem even brighter through the sheets of grey water.

"Alby Ferguson?" Sherry exchanged a glance with Tony, who didn't understand her reference. "Your father is one of the hunters?"

"I've got nothin' to say to you, you cu -"

The foot caught him squarely in the chest this time.

"Hey! You c-can't do this t-to me!" he protested. Tony grinned, but it wasn't friendly. "This is p-police brutality!" He pulled against Mark's hold just enough to smear the blood across his face with the back of one of his hands. "I w-want a lawyer!"

"You're in the middle of nowhere, John." Sherry had to raise her voice to be heard over the storm. "There are no lawyers here. Just us. Cooperate and we'll see."

Logan took a minute to drag his fingers through his hair, an expression of his frustration. He was unaware that Tony was inadvertently mimicking the gesture.

"Com unit," Logan muttered, checking the ground. Even if he'd been wearing his glasses, he probably wouldn't have been able to see it in the gloom. He leaned over anyway. John began an argument Logan thought was only present in bad cop shows: the 'you-can't-prove-anything' routine. Mark joined Sherry in the questioning, but they weren't getting anywhere. Logan decided to leave them to it. He had other concerns.

_Like reinforcements arriving at any moment._

A beam of light appeared over his right shoulder, pointed vaguely in the direction he was looking. He turned his head and squinted at the dark. Sydney adjusted the flashlight and gave him a little smile. When she opened her mouth to say something, Logan quickly placed a finger over his lips. With her help, he spotted the shiny metal surface of the earpiece. The girl picked it up gingerly, as if it might bite.

Unfortunately, John paused in his rant about personal rights long enough to notice what they had found. His eyes went wide.

"_Dad!"_

Mark spun him and delivered a swift right hook. The young man sagged in his grasp. He wouldn't be saying anything for quite some time.

Sydney gave the earpiece to Logan. He held it close to his face and noted the tiny green light blinking on the side: still active. There was no way to know how much the person at the other end had heard. Someone moved beside him and Logan turned to find Tony, drenched and grim, squatting beside him to better see the device. Sydney held the flashlight as steadily as she could, while both men silently considered what to do next.

Mark was securing John with a line of rope Suzy had retrieved from their supplies and he and Sherry were conferring about how best to handle their prisoner. Logan caught snatches of the conversation, something about putting him into a tent or tying him to a tree. Janie and Katie were apparently feeling left out and came to huddle on either side of Sydney and her beacon of light. Suzy had brought another flashlight and stayed with Mark and Sherry, a tall, soaked woman who was obviously feeling helpless.

Logan understood her position all too well. Max had come to the park with him to lure some killers who used their intended victims for sport. Was _he_ treating Max any better than the hunters? She could be in danger and he was as helpless as Suzy to change the situation. This wasn't a game but he'd dragged the young woman here, putting her at risk. Did Eyes Only have the right to ask that of someone he considered a good friend? Could Logan Cale justify his crusade with the blood of those he -

He closed his eyes. _If anything happens to Max, I'll never forgive myself._

"_John, do you read me? Over."_

Logan's eyes snapped open and he nearly dropped the device. He shared a glance with Tony and made no effort to stop him when the cop picked it up and placed it on his ear.

"I read you," he said, pitching his voice a bit higher than his own and speaking at a slower pace. He sounded as much like John as even _John_ might with the interference of the storm. "Had a bit of a tussle but I'm okay. I need some help, though."

_"I'll send Ted and Hank. Stay put."_

"Gotcha." Logan winced a bit at that word. Tony made a face, as if pained by the criticism of his performance.

"_You hear that, honey?"_ the voice continued. "_If you don't co-operate, there'll be a lot of innocent people hurt."_

Logan felt his pulse rate quicken. _Max…_

_**That means she has one of their com units**, _his Inner Voice said.

Logan found himself smiling. _That means at least one of the hunters is having a very bad day._

The rain was easing slightly, but the storm was far from over. Lightning flashed twice in quick succession, like a strobe light. The thunder that followed was deafening. Tony removed the earpiece and switched it off. The small green light faded. Both men bowed their heads over it, as if in prayer. Logan wasn't a religious man but, if there was such a thing as Divine Intervention, he was willing to accept it anytime now.

"We're gonna have company," Tony announced.

"We have to think of a way to outwit them," Sherry stated, "'cause we certainly can't outgun them."

"Maybe we can set up an ambush," Mark said, taking in the geography of the campsite. "We have three weapons and they don't know that. We could set someone up behind those trees and -"

"Wait." Logan and Tony looked up simultaneously. Suzy stood before them, staring, her flashlight pointed roughly at their chests so they wouldn't be blinded. Her expression was that of someone who had discovered some incredible secret and didn't know how to phrase the news so others would understand.

"Suz?" Tony dropped the earpiece in Logan's lap and stood. He placed his hands on her shoulders, frowning as she looked from his face to Logan's and back again. "Are you okay? What is it? What's wrong?"

Neither man expected her mischievous grin.

"Nothing's wrong," she assured them. "I just don't know why I didn't notice it before."

Logan sighed. As if they didn't have enough to worry about, the poor woman seemed to be buckling under the stress. He didn't blame her but hoped it wasn't happening, regardless. All he wanted to do was find Max, alive and unharmed.

"Notice what?" Sherry had joined the group, leaving Mark to guard the unconscious ranger.

Suzy rolled her eyes. "Well, _look_!"

Not knowing exactly what she was supposed to be looking at, Sherry obediently gazed around her.

"No! At _them_!" Suzy reached out with both hands and gestured emphatically towards Logan and her husband.

Sherry quickly took in the face of each man. Logan wasn't sure if he should be worried or not. When Sherry started to grin, he decided that being worried was a fair bet.

"Say, yeah. They do kinda -"

"Suz, what the hell -"

His wife leaned in and kissed Tony quickly on the lips to silence him.

"Lover," she said gleefully, "I have a _brilliant_ idea."

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	18. Chapter 18

**March 19, 2006: This is the next chapter of the little camping story that grew. ;)**

**My thanks, as always, to Alaidh for applying her Beta skills to this project.**

**And my thanks, as always, to those who read and those who review. Your responses to the story are greatly appreciated.**

April 3, 2006: Everybody into the storm, lol!

Enjoy!

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**Getting Away From It All**

"**_Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature's inexorable imperative._**"_  
-H.G. Wells _

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

April 17, 2019, 5:03PM  
Olympic National Park, Washington

Ted crouched in the pouring rain and used the scope to quickly scan the area. It was a good thing he'd invested in the best waterproof equipment. He was noted in the group for making sure he had all eventualities covered, but even he was having trouble with this storm. It was difficult to see anything properly. There was no sign of movement below, so he signalled to Hank with a wave of his hand to move ahead down the path. Ted stayed on higher ground until his friend was almost out of visual range then, after one more look through the scope, he followed as quickly as possible. He'd have to switch to the Night Vision eyepiece soon. The Infrared Illuminator was also in his pocket in case it became necessary to track their prey in total darkness. He smiled grimly: No street lamps in a national park.

He'd heard the brief exchange Alby had with his son John - and the subsequent conversation with the girl, Max, if it _could_ be called a 'conversation' - and decided to approach Lena Creek Campground warily.

"_You hear that, honey?"_ Alby had said. "_If you don't co-operate, there'll be a lot of innocent people hurt."_

The girl's response could best be described as 'colourful'.

They knew she wasn't armed - all their weapons had been accounted for - and yet she still seemed confident she could avoid the inevitable. Ted wasn't going to take any chances. Her location was unknown, so it was prudent to proceed with caution. Alby'd been hunting the longest of all of them. He was tracking her passage through the woods as best he could, given the weather, but she could've doubled back and reached the campground. Their prey was unusually talented this time and Alby figured she'd been in the military at some point.

Once they had discovered that _she_ was the reason some of their group wasn't responding, the girl had said very little.

_Wise beyond her years._

Unlike Norton or Bill, who liked to hear the sound of their own voices, Ted was a man of few words. He could respect someone who let their actions speak for themselves.

He reached Hank and the two proceeded in a similar manner, this time with Ted taking point. The ground was irregular and extremely slick, so he descended very carefully. Through the wall of water, a huddle of tents appeared. John wasn't visible but neither was anyone else. Ted approached slowly, taking in the boxy vehicle parked nearby, which seemed to be a camper, and noting the lack of litter at the site. These Girl Scouts had obviously maintained their reputation for being environmentally aware. He tried not to think about Alby's threat to use the girls as leverage for his game. That wasn't part of the plan. This whole expedition had gone wrong early on and, as far as Ted was concerned, every step they took that didn't involve leaving the park and heading back to Hoodsport was a step in the wrong direction.

He didn't like it but Alby was in charge and the members of the hunting club followed his lead. He only hoped it wouldn't lead to more trouble.

_John must have them in one of the tents_, Ted thought, moving closer to the site. The boy had mentioned something about "a tussle" to Alby. _John's pretty slick but if his cover has been blown, he'll want all the campers in one place._

Lightning chose that moment to illuminate the sky and a flash of silver caught his attention. He couldn't figure out what it was and decided a closer look was required. Signalling for Hank to stay back and provide cover, he walked towards the object, his rifle at the ready, as thunder echoed around the clearing.

It was a wheelchair. It lay on its side in the mud, one wheel turning slightly as the rain hummed against the tire. A few feet away lay a body and Ted recognized it immediately as the man who had arrived with their current prey: Logan Cale. He lay at an awkward angle, almost on his back but somewhat curled on the right side, one arm outstretched as if he'd been crawling away to escape his attacker, fingers frozen in the act of digging into the mud. His head was turned slightly away. There was no sign of life. The stillness affected Ted - the knowledge that the life of someone who shouldn't have been involved had ended brutally - and he said a silent prayer.

_Poor bastard._

The man was wearing the familiar jacket that Melanie and John had both described. It was soaked with rain, like the rest of the clothing. The body was partially supported by a wall of mud and winter debris that had formed behind him due to the runoff from the hill. The eyeglasses were still in place but the wearer was obviously in no condition to care anymore. Ted lowered his weapon and waved behind him to Hank that all was well. The only trouble dead men caused involved concealing their bodies until the wildlife could eliminate the evidence.

It bothered him that Melanie had been killed and he was well aware that it was no accident. Bill had even crowed about the accuracy of the shot to her head until Alby had told him to shut up and focus. It made Ted sick. He stared down at the pale face of Mr. Cale. Perhaps the man had tried to defend the girls and John had seen fit to silence him. Ted squinted and reached in his coat pocket for his flashlight to assess the body. He hated that now two people other than the target had been met a grisly end; that wasn't the agreement. Logan Cale hadn't done anything but come looking for a chance to escape the city. It was a shame that his wife was their target but Alby had set out the rules long ago regarding any other campers, marking them as off limits.

_Rules he seems to be ignoring now_, Ted thought grimly, his flashlight quickly scanning for signs of injury. There was blood on the man's face and neck and it stained the collar of his shirt, but he couldn't find a visible bullet hole. There was more blood soaking the right shoulder of the jacket. The rain hadn't washed all of it clean due to the angle of the body. He frowned, truly puzzled by the situation. _Would John have shot him in the back of the head? Seems a bit drastic. I didn't hear a gunshot, though. Maybe he just hit him hard enough with a rock or something to crush the back of the skull…_

The lightning flared again and thunder clapped almost immediately this time. The heart of the storm was closer. Ted decided it was time to investigate the tents and turned away from the body. It was a mystery for later, something he'd ask John about over dinner at Annie's Coffee and Grill. He had no doubt they would be leaving as soon as this was cleared up, and he hoped that wouldn't take very long. Despite the complications this time, it just seemed to be a matter of holding the witnesses, finishing the hunt and moving on from there. Ted knew it probably meant more deaths, as they could hardly let the campers go, and it saddened him - especially now that the girls would have to be killed.

He sighed. That was the price they would pay for starting this game in the first place. It wasn't as if he didn't have blood on his hands already. Alby would sort it all out, though. He'd never let the hunting club down.

_What a mess_. Ted took a few steps towards the largest tent, the most likely spot for the number of people involved.

Something made him stop: Instinct, nerves, a glimpse of movement through the gloom. He turned his head to look over where Hank had been standing and saw only trees, innocent and silent, boughs springing with the weight of the rain. A chill ran along his spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

The body was in the process of standing, swiftly, effortlessly, as if it were being lifted by some invisible hand. Ted had seen horror movies like this as a boy and nightmares involving zombies still haunted him. He turned to face the impossible, the rifle held slack in his grasp, almost forgotten, and his mouth opened but he couldn't find his voice.

The eyes of Logan Cale regarded him over the rims of his glasses with open distain.

"Oh my god," Ted whispered, his mind flailing and grasping at the first obvious point of contradiction. He could hear Norton's voice in his head, speaking the words of earlier that afternoon: "_At least we don't have to worry 'bout the cripple,"_ Norton had stated, laughing_. "I'm not even gonna waste a bullet on him. It'd be like shootin' fish in a barrel."_

"Is that all you can say?" the dead man before him asked in a flat tone.

"You can _stand_!"

"It's a miracle," the dead man growled and kicked Ted hard in the abdomen. Before he could recover, the body spun and leapt as fast as a blink. Another kick caught the hunter in the head and he went down, consciousness slipping away as the dead man laughed against the backdrop of another flash of lightning.

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_**5:05 PM,  
On the Trail**_

Max knew she had to end this hunt and fast, before the threat to the other campers became more than an idle one.

The man named Alby was obviously used to being in control and he had enough skill and experience to get him this far. The authorities would probably never know exactly how many people had died at the hands of these men but she was determined that today would be the last day they had a chance to target practise on anything - _ever_.

She had bolted east upon being tracked to her last conquest. She hoped they'd left 'Colin' tied up, as he was probably more of a hindrance to someone like Alby, especially with their plans having gone terribly awry. _One less idiot with a gun._ Now she turned south again, intent on reaching Lena Creek Campground before the night and the storm completely embraced the park. She could see just fine, but she suspected the hunters would have an advantage over the Girl Scouts and the adults who strove to protect them.

_Logan…_

She had no idea what had happened beyond learning that the ranger, John, was Alby's son and a member of the hunting party. Her earlier instincts about him, back at the rescue of Vernice from the river, had been correct, though he'd covered himself well. How much practice did he have with this scenario? It didn't bear thinking about when there were more immediate concerns. John was at Lena Creek. He'd "had a bit of a tussle" and his father was sending at least two men to assist.

The sooner she made it there, the sooner she could confirm that everyone - _that Logan_ - was alright.

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_**5:10 PM  
Through the Rain**_

Caitlin Johnston wearily placed one foot in front of the other as she followed her girls through the most incredible storm she could ever remember encountering. At the head of the line was Ranger Thompson, who had found the troop as they hurried away from the sound of gunfire - at the insistence of a young woman who was now missing.

_I hope Max and Melanie have found some shelter_, she thought, narrowly avoiding a root. She managed to maintain her footing and her sanity as she kept the small voice inside her at bay.

_Assuming either of them is still alive._

"Mom?"

_How long has Carrie been walking beside me?_ Caitlin shook her head and pushed her hair away from her face for the third time in as many minutes.

"I'm fine," she said and noted that her daughter looked puzzled. She sighed. "Sorry, sweetie, what did you say?"

"I'm trying to remember how long it took us to get to the top," the girl said, dragging her own long hair behind her ears. "If I could figure that out, I might know how close we are to camp."

Caitlin considered the answer. She took in the trees along the path, but they really all looked the same. The rain wasn't helping her sense of direction. "Considering the pace we're going at and that it's all downhill, I'd say we weren't too far away now."

Carrie's nose wrinkled. "How long is that in minutes, Mom?"

"I don't know, sweetie. Just keep moving and we'll get there when we get there."

She could tell that the answer hadn't satisfied her daughter, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

"Are we there yet?" Vernice called out from her spot a few paces ahead of them. She didn't seem to be asking anyone in particular, so Caitlin saved her energy and waited to see if anyone else would answer.

"No!" This from Soleil, who was closer to the front. Caitlin noted not for the first time that all the girls were soaked to the bone and would require a thorough recovery from this ordeal in a warm, dry space.

Several minutes passed before Vernice spoke again. "Are we there _now_?"

Even through the rain, Caitlin could see the dark look Soleil gave her friend.

Before anyone else could speak, a bird swooped over the troop, alarming some of the girls, who cried out at the sudden appearance. It settled on a tree near the path and worked its way carefully to the end of the branch. It hooted once. Ranger Thompson approached the bird and hooted back.

As one, trip coordinator Caitlin Johnston of the Girl Scouts of America, Totem Council, Seattle, Washington, and six Studio 2B girls gaped at owl and man with equal astonishment.

"We must hurry," the ranger said and started shooing the girls ahead of him. A bit spooked by the events of the day, they fell silent and hurried along. He moved through them at a light jog and took the lead again without leaving them behind. Caitlin followed at the rear of the line, maintaining the brisk pace, and wondered what exactly had occurred with the owl.

When she looked back at the tree, the bird was gone.

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	19. Chapter 19

March 26, 2006: The story continues… :)

And to think this was going to be a one-chapter response to a challenge, lol… ;)

Thanks to Alaidh for her wonderful Beta. :)

Thanks also to those of you who have braved camping with me and shared your thoughts about the experience.

**April 23, 2006: Just a few more chapters, folks, then it'll be time to shake out the blankets and pull up the tent pegs on this adventure.**

**Enjoy!**

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**_"If you violate Nature's laws you are your own prosecuting attorney, judge, jury, and hangman."_**

_- Luther Burbank_

_**Chapter Eighteen**_

_**5:10 PM,  
Lena Creek Campground**_

Thunder punctuated the sound of the hunter's body connecting with the muddy ground. 

The one who had put him there smirked and stepped close enough to take the rifle and remove the earpiece from the unconscious man. He slung the weapon over his shoulder by the strap then righted the wheelchair and pushed it towards the main tent.

A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a burly build emerged from his hiding place behind some trees, walking backwards and grunting slightly as he grasped the other unconscious hunter under the armpits and proceeded to drag him into the clearing.

"What'd you do to him?" asked the man with the wheelchair.

The older man gave him a level stare. "The Vulcan nerve pinch."

"Nah, you punched his lights out with the famous Johnston Jive."

"Got it in one. Where'd you learn to kick like that?" he asked the younger man.

"Chuck Norris movies, of course."

"Nice job."

The man grinned. "Why, thank you."

"I thought the dialogue was a little stiff," his 'twin' remarked dryly, lowering his gun and shifting from where he sat behind a fir tree. The wheelchair stopped beside him. He put the safety on the Vector, reached out to lock the brakes and prepared to pull himself into the seat, frowning at the mud that coated the entire left side.

"It worked, didn't it, Mr. Cale?"

"It worked, Mr. Navarro." He accepted the glasses that were given to him and tucked them into his shirt pocket. "You have a brilliant wife."

Tony cocked an eyebrow and pulled a small hand towel from the inside pocket of Logan's jacket, rubbing vigorously at the blood on his skin.

"Of course I do. Good thing the kid's nose wouldn't stop bleeding. Made it more realistic."

Logan settled into the wheelchair and Tony gave him the blood-smeared towel. He accepted it gingerly and made a few swipes at the clogged spokes on his left wheel. "Unfortunately, I now have his blood all over my jacket."

"My, aren't we pissy? At least you didn't have to lie in the mud. Thanks for reminding me about the jacket, though." The Tacoma cop removed the dirty, blood-smeared item, made a face and offered it to Logan.

"Uh, no thanks," the latter said tightly. Tony shrugged and gave it to Sherry, who had joined the two by the tree.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" she asked. Tony shrugged, handed her the rifle as well and went back to retrieve the body of the man he'd surprised moments before.

"Probably burn it," Logan muttered. With a snap he unlocked his brakes and headed for the main tent. Sherry stared after him then followed the progress of Mark, who disappeared into one of the smaller tents with the other hunter. There, both of the men they had just managed to remove from the situation would join John as securely trussed prisoners.

Suzy poked her head out of the main tent. "Is everything alright now?"

"All clear," Sherry assured her. The tent flap was held open for Logan and fell closed again after he was through. Suzy stepped carefully through the mud to where the female ranger stood, watching her husband drag the other man by his feet. The rain continued, unrelenting. She glanced at the jacket Sherry held and thought of the expression on Logan Cale's face. She sighed.

"Too much testosterone?"

Sherry smiled despite their circumstances. "Oh, yeah."

"Maybe they _were_ separated at birth."

The ranger stopped smiling and abruptly handed the extra weapon and jacket to a startled Suzy.

"We've got incoming!" she called out, and raised her own rifle to follow the progress of whoever was moving down the hill towards them from the north. Tony released his hold on his prisoner and spun, dropping to one knee and pulling his gun. The tent flap opened and Logan emerged. He held his gun at the ready, squinting through the rain, waiting. Three anxious girls peered through a gap in the opening, under strict instructions to stay hidden.

Ranger Thompson was the first to step into the campground, saying, "Sherry, are you secure?"

Sherry lowered her rifle with a sigh of relief and nodded. "We're secure. You?"

Suzy spotted Caitlin and Carrie coming down the hill and dropped the coat and rifle to the ground, breaking into a run. "Mark!"

He burst from the tent, not certain if the woman's cry was for joy or despair.

Thompson smiled as he approached, one arm around Soleil and the other girls close behind. "I found most of them," he said quietly to Sherry. She managed not to ask who was missing. That information would soon make itself known.

Mark homed in on his wife and daughter, who were sharing a reunion with Suzy. The family hugged one another fiercely until Carrie broke away to join her friends. Suzy hurried to Tony and hugged him just because she loved him, and he hugged back because that was all that ever mattered.

Soleil broke free from the ranger when she saw the faces at the tent flap, and the three girls forgot the warning to stay hidden when they realized their friends had returned. There was much laughing and shouting, which eventually ended up with all the girls forming what they called a 'group hug', joined together by wrapping their arms around the shoulders of the ones beside them, forming a circle that they liked to believe no one could break. A few sobs began then as the shock of what had happened descended with all the force of the rain.

Logan and Sherry exchanged a glance, each having done a mental head count of all present. He swallowed and found he couldn't ask, though he already knew the answer, of course.

"Max is being pursued," Thompson told him gently.

"We know," came Logan's quiet reply.

Sherry almost didn't speak but realized she had to know. "And Melanie?"

Thompson hesitated, pain flickering across his features, and her fears were realized. "They killed her." His voice was very soft and probably travelled no further than her ears. Sherry's face struggled with anger and loss. He placed both his hands on her shoulders and said, "I haven't told the others yet and I think we should keep it that way for now." He tightened his grip. "We will grieve for her later. We have others to protect." She nodded and looked down at the rifle she held, hand gripping the stock of the weapon tightly.

Logan placed the gun in his lap, safety on, and let the rain cleanse him and his wheelchair of any lingering mud. He was chilled without his jacket and knew he had to watch for problems that might develop with his legs. If Bling were present, he'd be having a fit and demanding time be taken for a warm room and dry clothes. At the moment, Logan didn't care.

He stared at the treetops across from him, his eyes unfocussed. He was seeing Max's beautiful face and recalling their conversations since they arrived at the park. His memories included the kisses they had shared in their charade as a couple that weren't quite as chaste as they had each probably intended.

She had to be alright. _She had to be._

He became aware of someone standing next to him: Vernice, the girl Max had rescued. Her dark, curly hair clung to the sides of her face as she regarded him solemnly.

"She's gonna be fine," she told Logan. He couldn't speak at her heartfelt statement, uncertain of how steady his voice would be, but nodded that he appreciated her concern. Without warning, she leaned down and gave him a quick hug then returned to the other girls.

Once the prisoners were secure, everyone opted to squeeze into the large tent to discuss their next best step given the bizarre circumstances. It took a few persistent minutes for Sherry to coax Logan inside. Otherwise he might have remained immobilized in the storm, his face lifted to the sky so the rain would mingle with his tears of frustration and worry without anyone noticing.

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_**5:27 PM,**_  
_**Echo Point, Olympic National Park**_

Max had reached another area where the trees thinned out due to an increase in rock and a lack of soil beneath her feet, as if nature had cleared space for the view. The edge was abruptly apparent. There was a fence with a thick railing, a crescent of iron about fifteen feet across where the rock jutted out the farthest. There was a sign over to the left of where she stood, almost illegible in weather like this: 'Echo Point'. Smaller print beneath it encouraged people to test their lungpower.

She stepped cautiously, peering over to look below. _Long way down._ A river tumbled over rocks at the bottom, swollen due to the spring run off from the mountains and a particular force to be reckoned with under the influence of the storm. The echo of the rushing water could be heard even over the rain, sounding like a stadium of fans cheering and applauding at a game a few blocks away. The cliff on which she stood looked sheer and would be a challenge to descend, though there wasn't much point considering that route. It didn't really take her anywhere she wanted to go. Across from her was another cliff, slightly higher, but she estimated the span was over two hundred feet.

_Not an option. Even someone like me couldn't make that jump unassisted and I wouldn't survive the drop._

Max retraced her steps, checking the increasing darkness for any sign of movement. She thought she saw something, a glimmer of light in the gloom. It was still a distance away so it was difficult to tell if it was a flashlight or some trick of the storm. The enhanced senses provided by Manticore could only do so much. She was hungry and tired, which spoke volumes about her strength and training that she was still moving and capable of rational thought. She completed turning in a circle and returned to the railing.

_I can't go on like this much longer._ Mentally, she knew she could, of course, having the knowledge of her genetic capabilities. She didn't _want_ to continue this game, and if that would make her 'soft' or 'weak' in the eyes of someone like Zack, then so be it.

Zack. Logan. Two very different men, and yet they had some common ground. They were smart, stubborn, good at maintaining a low profile and had a habit of keeping their emotions well hidden. They both treated their lives like a Special Ops drill.

Zack seemed to feel he had to remain concealed and on the run. He held Max at a distance, for the safety of all the X-5s, he'd said. Not a life: a _fear_.

Logan hid for a different reason - Eyes Only could hardly advertise his location - but invited her over for dinner, played chess with her, tried to help her towards a time when she wouldn't have to leave Seattle and run with the other Manticore escapees if Lydecker found her. She could have a chance at a 'normal' life and fear wouldn't be haunting her at every step.

A flash of lightning jarred her back to the park. The rain poured with sufficient intensity that it almost felt like she was in the river again, fighting the current, holding her breath for air. The wind was strong here, too. The lack of trees before the drop was probably a contributing factor, and a nice series of sheer rock at different heights made for an excellent tunnel. She was reminded of cycling through certain Seattle streets where the skyscrapers acted as barriers and, if the wind blew right, conduits to form their own weather patterns.

They were difficult for _her_ to battle, impossible for someone like -

Max recalled how Logan was dealing with being in the wilderness. Adapting as he went, cooking over a campfire, making the best of being stuck in the wheelchair, determined, persistent -

_Just like always._

Oddly, she found herself grinning as she admired the cliff across from her.

_Maybe when this bitch is done, I'll take him rock climbing…_

Another flash of lightning caught her as she was looking upwards and she blinked a few times before her eyes recalibrated to the dark. Thunder clapped above her and if it had been a physical blow, she imagined she'd be flat. It made her ears ring - _her, Max, super-soldier_ - and the vibration of the ground under her feet was a testament to the power of nature.

The clearing of a throat was barely audible and surprised her. She spun around and stared at three men, who paused at the edge where the trees thinned out, their weapons trained directly at her: _the leader, the jerk and some other guy who looks way too smug_. Her eyes narrowed.

"Well, hello there," Alby said, as casually as if they were old friends who were meeting in the produce section of the local grocery store. "You've caused us a lot of trouble, little lady. This was going to be a pleasant, afternoon hunt, followed by dinner and then some brandy by the fire." The rain poured off the brim of his cap like a small waterfall. The jerk - _Norton, wasn't it?_ - didn't have a hat and his hair was plastered thin, revealing a balding spot at the top. The third man had that blonde, surfer look, though the camouflage outfit conveyed a desire to appear far more macho than anyone catching the waves at San Miguel.

Max watched them warily, too angry to speak. Alby didn't seem to mind at all.

"Your lack of...co-operation has put your friends at risk, too."

"She trussed up Colin," the blonde man stated, eyes gleaming. "I want this one."

"No time for fun today," Alby said firmly, as if he were admonishing a child. "And I don't think you're in her league, Bill."

"You _promised_ me I could have this one. You promised me Melanie, too."

Norton snorted. "Well, whose fault is it that she's dead?"

Bill pointed a finger at Alby, causing his weapon to waver slightly. "Hey, he _told_ me to do it!"

Max stilled while the two men continued to argue. So, the one named Bill had been responsible for Melanie's death, and who knew what her fate would have been if she'd lived. _Probably used and killed anyway_, she thought sadly, and her anger was stoked even more.

"That's enough!" Alby's voice was sufficiently loud that a faint echo could be heard, even through the storm. Norton rocked on his heels and returned his focus to Max. Bill looked disappointed but obviously didn't have the nerve to press his point.

_Coward._

Max started. There was that glimmer of light again, behind them and moving closer. Another hunter? From listening in on their conversations, she thought there weren't any more out there.

She took a step back and her spine connected with the iron railing. Whoever it was, they were moving to join the group and she had nowhere to run.


	20. Chapter 20

**May 16, 2006: **My apologies for not getting this chapter organized sooner.

I thank Alaidh for her amazing Betaing and for joining me on this incredible trip. It would be boring if I were camping alone. :)

Thank you to those who read and those who review my writing. Your feedback is encouraging and greatly appreciated.

**May 30, 2006:** Thanks to Alaidh, I'm able to get this chapter posted much sooner than I anticipated. :)

Enjoy!

**Getting Away From It All**

"**_Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better._**"

_- Albert Einstein_

**_Chapter Nineteen_**

**_5:30 PM,_**  
**_Echo Point, Olympic National Park_**

Max didn't have any time to think.

She sensed the approaching lightning and knew the instant it would rupture the sky. In one swift motion, she reached behind, grabbed the railing with both hands and used it to vault herself, feet first, in a tight corkscrew spin against the falling rain.

She closed her eyes, held her breath and flew.

The storm blinded the men as they attempted to follow her progress through the air. She propelled herself over their heads and somersaulted down on the other side, stumbling slightly and slipping on the slick rocks.

_I really must be outta practice_, she thought, pleased despite her imperfect landing, and utilized a rush of adrenaline and hope to run in the opposite direction of Echo Point's deadly edge.

From the angry shouts behind her, she gathered that the trio of hunters were not amused by her manoeuvre.

Maintaining an erratic path turned out to be prudent as they began firing on her before she was down the slope - her initial goal Lena Creek, but Max didn't want to endanger Logan and the campers. She hoped Caitlin and the girls had made it there by now and that they'd managed somehow to reach help. Being in a national park wasn't the best of circumstances when it came to communication -

_Communication…_

"How do I get myself into these situations?" she muttered, running with what amounted to a controlled fall down the slope, using her enhanced vision and reflexes to avoid colliding with any trees. Her mind raced through the possibilities for reaching someone in authority. This wasn't the first time the idea had occurred to her but she kept revisiting it as if something new would present itself and save the day.

Cell phone was out. Even if she had one, there wouldn't be a strong enough signal, not with all these trees, not with the way the post-Pulse world functioned. Alby and his buddies were using their own contained units, not unlike what Logan had used on occasion to stay in contact with her on a mission. The rangers had walkie-talkies but, of course, that didn't help _her_ at all. They were limited in their range, anyway. There was a land line at the main gatehouse but she doubted the hunters would have left that option available, and this far out the security cameras were probably just recording the data to a system on site rather than being monitored by a separate company in another location.

She could always set fire to the forest, but that was only a passing thought and far from practical. It would certainly get someone's attention but too little, too late and the damage to the park and risk to all the life inside was too great. The towers were a possibility but only if they had a signalling device of some kind. Max quickly reviewed her conversation with Sherry earlier that day and found no indication of anything of that nature, not semaphore flags or a light for sending a message via Morse code or even the Bat Signal.

A bullet impacted a trunk just a few feet away from her. When had she slowed down? God, she needed something to eat. The delicious lunch of freshly grilled fish and tender rice had been so long ago and that breakfast bar she'd found on one of the men had barely given her enough energy to care about kicking his sorry ass. The sooner this was all wrapped up, the closer she was to having a hot meal.

_Or a cold meal. That'll do. Or maybe even a cookie, yeah…_

She gasped and forced herself to stop a moment later, practically slamming her back against a tree. She looked at her hands, suddenly terrified of what she might find. If she _were_ getting the shakes now, her troubles would be over very soon.

Permanently.

_The Tryptophan_, she thought to herself, _is in the Aztek. I'll never make it._

But her hands weren't shaking and she had none of the other symptoms, so that wasn't the problem. She sighed and closed her eyes. _Focus, soldier. You're just hungry, that's all. So used to regular meals at Logan's, you've forgotten what it's like to be hungry for a while._

**_It'll pass_**, her Inner Commentator said soothingly.

_I know._ Her eyes opened again and she held very still against the tree trunk, trying to place the location of her pursuers through the sounds of the storm, stretching her hearing and sense of smell to their limits. The chances of assistance from the outside world were slim to none. The threat to Logan and her new friends was still high - _if she didn't stop this right now._

It all came down to her survival.

She'd take them to Lena Creek the long way and finish them before they entered the site.

The hunters weren't far behind but were relying on their fancy equipment and their tracking skills to find her. One was made by humans and therefore flawed and imperfect. The other _was_ human and therefore flawed and imperfect.

And even though humans had created her, which meant that she, too, was flawed and imperfect, she had one major advantage over these amateurs who liked to play with guns: _she_ knew exactly what she was doing. She was designed for this, trained for this, and it had been so long since she'd really been able to let her wild side take control. It was necessary now in order for her to end the game, to save the lives of innocent people.

_To make a difference, just like Logan does every day._

Her eyes glinted in the next flash of light that filtered through the branches. They reflected like mirrors and shone with an inhuman glow; she _was_ a night predator, after all.

Max breathed slowly, feeling oddly calm. The cat inside her stretched lazily. It was always there. She couldn't switch it on and off, but she didn't usually give this side of her permission to be unleashed. If the men were lucky, she wouldn't toy with them too much before she killed them.

She wasn't worried about regaining control afterwards and reasserting the woman she had become since Manticore when this bitch was done.

Max took another deep breath and smiled.

She had someone who cared waiting for her return.

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_**5:30 PM,  
Lena Creek Campground**_

The gunshots could be heard clearly despite the storm, like fireworks just over the hill.

Logan noted some of the others huddled in the main tent lifted their heads at the sound. At least one of the girls started to sob again. He didn't blame her in the least. He sat stiffly in the wheelchair with a blanket wrapped around his still damp shoulders, trapped by the circumstances of his limited physical abilities and the overwhelming distance which separated him from a brave young woman he considered to be a good friend: a very good friend.

_Max is in danger. It's all my fault._

He fought the urge to curse out loud in frustration. The Girl Scouts didn't need to hear that kind of language nor did he want to add to their fear. He knew Max was being hunted. He didn't know how many men were tracking her or what type of rifles they were using but he knew she needed help.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

The shots were still echoing when Sherry suddenly stood and looked at Thompson. "Are you coming?"

"Of course," the other ranger said. He turned to the rest of the group. "If you don't hear back from us in half an hour, get out of the park and head for Hoodsport. You can't miss the police station."

Sherry smirked. "They painted the brick _green _two years ago."

Mark stood and Tony started to protest. Thompson silenced them in the light of the lantern with a stern look.

"They need you more than we do," he said. He made certain Suzy and Sherry still had their walkie-talkies and he and Mark automatically checked their watches to ensure the next thirty minutes would elapse with military accuracy. Tony looked like he was going to argue. Mark placed a hand on his arm and they watched as the two rangers went through the flap and into the rain. Logan rolled forward and moved the fabric enough to see their dark shapes and the dim glow of a flashlight hurry north.

"Girls," Mark said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the storm, "pack your knapsacks with the essentials only and get wrapped up for travel. We're breaking camp."

"Mark -"

"No reason we can't get ready," he responded gruffly. Caitlin placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. He took a moment to meet her gaze and managed a small smile of reassurance. She smiled as well then turned to take care of the girls. Suzy and Tony were doing their best to address questions and allay any fears.

"I can't find my pack."

"Its over here, Vernice."

"I can't find my sweater!"

"I got it, Soleil."

"Water. Do we need to bring water?"

"Carrie, remember to breathe, hun."

A Glock 19 and a Vector CP-1 were calmly checked by their owners to ensure they had a full clip of ammunition. The cop and the journalist exchanged a grim look as they acknowledged one another silently.

Mark Johnston located his knapsack and started organizing the contents. "Whatever happens," he said to no one in particular, "we're leaving the park tonight."

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_**5:52 PM,**_  
**_Passed Echo Point_**

The chase continued. The weather wasn't helping, of course, and the target was definitely more challenging than he'd anticipated, but it wasn't a situation completely foreign to Alby Ferguson. He'd played war games before the Pulse, albeit with paintball guns, and he'd participated in the army reserve. It had been awhile since he'd experienced something this serious but the hunt was sweeter as a result. She'd embarrassed some of the boys but none of them were dead. She obviously had training but not the killer instinct and she had foolishly left all weapons behind.

He'd figure out later how the barrels had been bent so they couldn't be fired, when he was warm, dry and having his usual meal at Annie's Coffee and Grill.

"Norton," Alby said quietly, leaning close and not using the earpiece, "keep her busy." He grabbed Bill's jacket and said, "Get to Lena Creek and make certain John's taken care of those campers."

Bill saluted - poorly, Alby noted - and headed southeast.

Chamber full, Norton fired in the area where they'd last seen the girl, adding whoops of delight as he did so. Perhaps he thought it added to the terror of their prey but Alby observed a wet, balding man who had too many beers inside him and not a lick of sense. He sighed. It was so difficult to find people who really cared about their craft. He'd have a talk with Norton later about tactics.

And dignity.

Bill jogged in his army camouflage towards the site. They had been getting closer, following the path of the girl, so he didn't have far to go. "John?" Still no response. _Damn storm._ "Hey, John, what're you doing? Playing Twister with the Girl Scouts? Answer me!" Then he saved his breath for the run.

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_**5:52 pm,**_  
**_Lena Creek Campground_**

"Of course he can't take all of us but he _can_ take the younger ones."

"And how much time will we waste tearing his damn car apart so he can safely _drive_ it? The walk to the parking lot and the main gate isn't that far."

Mark stalked the circle, absently checking the fire rings out of habit as he went, scanning the forest for any sign of the rangers, the enemy or the girl named Max. It had been decided to leave the tents behind, along with the three bound men that one of them contained. Now he was debating with Tony as to whether the Aztek should be put to use to speed up the evacuation. It could be driven in its current form but wasn't set up for carrying passengers. With the dark and the storm, his friend wasn't sure it was worth the risk. Given the circumstances, Mark didn't care if they clung to the tailgate as long as they could get as many as possible closer to safety.

The rangers hadn't returned nor were they answering their walkie-talkie. The group had voted to wait and see but that may have been an error. Mark didn't have any military training but common sense told him they'd waited too long, hoping somebody else would resolve the situation. One of these days, he'd learn to listen to his gut. There were two vehicles back at the main gate. All they had to do was reach them.

"It's almost been half an hour."

He was startled by the voice behind him and turned to see Logan Cale wheeling through the mud towards them at a fair clip, given the conditions. Mark didn't have to squint or shine his flashlight to recognize the distinctive shape of a man in a wheelchair. He pointed the light near the ground at the base of the left wheel so he could see without blinding the other man. He noted the journalist wore his bloodstained jacket, perhaps in a vain attempt to keep some part of him warm if not dry, and gloves, which helped him get a grip on the slick wheels. A determined expression was on his face. Mark had to admire his strength and energy.

_And focus, considering his wife is being hunted by wingnuts._

He consulted his watch. "Yep. Eight minutes to go."

"It might not be the most comfortable ride, but I could take the drivers," Mr. Cale continued, "at least so they can get their vehicles and come back for the others. Then we'd all be dry and moving faster."

Mark grunted. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Tony rolled his eyes.

Before anyone could take further action, Suzy left the main tent and walked briskly towards them, her flashlight bobbing in the darkness.

"We're ready," she said simply and held up the walkie-talkie. "I'm going to try again."

"How many?"

She pursed her lips. "This will make the fourth call."

"Do it," Mark said tersely, and they waited in the rain while Suzy pressed the button.

"Sherry, this is Suzy. Do you read me, over?"

The answer was a hiss of static.

"Sherry, do you read me, over?"

More static. Suzy had been referred to as 'persistent', 'stubborn' and 'relentless' from a very young age, the word changing slightly depending on whether or not the person making the comment thought it a positive attribute. She had lived up to her reputation ever since and wasn't about to stop now. She pushed the button again.

"Sherry, please respond!"

Tony stepped in front of her and held out his hand for the walkie-talkie. "Let it go, Suz."

"No." She turned to move away but he gripped her shoulders firmly.

"We're on our own," he said. She looked up at him with huge eyes.

"I'm not going to stop calling."

"That's fine, just don't get stuck there, okay?"

"Don't patronize me, Tony."

"I'm not." He pulled her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and sighed.

"I know."

The gunshots rang so close to the camp that, at first, Mark thought they were the targets. They all ducked reflexively and some of the girls cried out. When it became evident that the danger wasn't immediate, he made a quick decision.

"On foot! Everybody move! _Now!_"

No one argued with him.

Logan paused at the edge of the circle, right where the trees began and stopped. He watched as the Girl Scouts ran along the path, which curved up the hill, and he knew this wasn't going to work. He'd known that on some level twenty-two minutes ago. He consulted his watch, squinting at the dim glow of the digital numbers. It wasn't impossible for him to read without his glasses but between that and the storm, it was more of a challenge than usual. _No, twenty-four minutes, now._ The Aztek was parked on the other side of the campsite and though he was tempted to try to reach it, he knew he was exhausted just from manoeuvring around while they organized their departure.

He turned the wheelchair to face the direction of the shots and pulled out his gun.

Caitlin noticed him first. "Logan!" She ran back down the hill, Mark and Tony close behind. Suzy and the girls clustered near the top and waited tensely.

"I can't do the hill," Logan stated, wishing the woman would leave him alone. "Get the kids to safety."

"I can push you," Caitlin insisted, the terror in her voice evident despite her attempts to conceal it.

"No, you can't." He looked up at her and tried to be the calm voice of reason. "I'm armed and practically invisible in this rain. I'll be fine."

"I can carry you," Mark said, wanting to get them all to safety and figuring this would expedite matters. He could tell his wife was close to panic at the thought of leaving anyone behind, even someone she'd only met the day before.

"You could but you're _not_ going to." He turned to meet Tony's eyes. "Get them out of here." He managed a smile. "I've got your back."

Caitlin easily sensed that events were turning against her and tried one more time. "Logan, don't do this. If this is some stupid guy thing -" She saw his expression harden and changed her approach. "You don't need to be a hero. The risk isn't necessary!"

"I'd just slow you down. Go."

Mark took hold of her arm and pulled her up the hill. Tony clasped Logan's shoulder briefly.

"See you later." It was almost an order.

"Count on it."

Then he was gone.

Logan backed closer to the tree line and let the rain pound on his fears.

"I'm not leaving you, Max," he stated firmly to the elements. "I'm never leaving you again."

The subsequent shots were closer. Logan raised his gun and waited for Fate to present his next challenge.

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* * *


	21. Chapter 21

**July 7, 2006: **My apologies for the delay with this chapter. It might be the final instalment of this story and I wanted to make certain I got it right.

The family dog, Harry the Greyhound, passed away suddenly yesterday and to say it has thrown my Muse off her chair would be an understatement. This chapter is almost ready to send to my Beta but I have to put it on hold for a bit. Harry would want me to continue to be creative, though, especially with this story. After all, I'm almost done - and he loved sniffing in the woods, especially after a good, hard rain…

**July 16, 2006:** Unless I'm mistaken, this is the final chapter of 'Getting Away From It All'. :)

My thanks to Alaidh, the Almighty Beta, for offering to assist with this story when it was just a short response to a challenge - **her** challenge, in fact. You are brave, Alaidh, and would make a super ranger. :)

**Thank you to those who read and those who review my writing. Your feedback during this 'saga' in particular has been _- and will always be -_ greatly appreciated.**

There has been a slight mystical quality to elements of this story. It didn't start out that way but it is there, nonetheless, and I've tried to be consistent with it. Though it is a bit whimsical, I haven't neglected that element in the final chapter. For those of you who weren't sure about this aspect of the story, I thank you for your patience.

Be it so noted that I still enjoy writing in this universe and don't anticipate becoming bored any time soon, lol! Depending on who you are, this is either a promise or a warning… ;)

"Fight the power. Protect the downtrodden. Blah, blah, woof, woof."

Enjoy!

**Getting Away From It All**

**"_Moral excellence comes about as a result of habit. We become just by doing just acts, temperate by doing temperate acts, brave by doing brave acts."_**

_- Aristotle_

**_Chapter Twenty_**

_**April 17, 2019, 5:56 PM,**_  
**_Olympic National Park, Washington_**  
**_In the Woods_**

Lightning flashed in the distance and the thunder grumbled in response, a brief reprieve from the intense storm that had interrupted a beautiful day.

Max continued to dart through the forest, evading the men who hunted her. Her original goal had been to return to the campsite - _to Logan_ - but she didn't want to bring trouble with her and had changed her mind. Studying the situation tactically, she now had three main problems and one of them had just separated from the other two.

Bill, the blond surfer guy in camouflage, was heading southeast and that could only mean one thing. She managed to control her breathing, remember her training and remain calm and focussed.

Mostly.

_Damn it, Logan, you better not get hurt -_

She figured Alby had sent Bill to Lena Creek to check up on the progress of the guy named John - Alby's son. _John. Trusted park ranger._ She wondered if Sherry and Thompson knew about his betrayal. Max didn't know if the young man had been involved with the previous hunts but his participation with this event alone would be enough for someone like Matt Sung to show no mercy and lump him in with the others.

And if Justice were served, John would join them and kiss his ass goodbye.

Norton - _the jerk_ - was wasting ammunition by shooting at the forest in what appeared to be a completely random attack. Although he was firing in an area not far from her current location, she figured it was due to luck not skill. He was guessing and, though it was a good guess, it wasn't enough for him to score a hit. She had assessed him as an over-confident, reckless type who seemed to have control issues.

Since he was armed, that also made him dangerous, a wild card.

_Maybe that's why the leader has set him loose_, she thought. _If he screws up, it doesn't really matter._ _He's expendable._

Bill was a threat to Logan and the campers - _if_ they were still there. _If John hasn't already moved them to another location, _Max thought grimly, reviewing the exchange she had heard earlier between father and son. She determined that if Logan or any of the others were harmed because of these people, she might not wait for the human courts to have their say in the matter.

She smiled, her teeth gleaming white in the dim light of the forest. _Assuming any of the hunters make it outta the park alive -_

After a brief pause, the onslaught resumed. Norton seemed ready to annihilate anything in his path and no doubt his wordless yelling and subsequent taunts were supposed to strike terror in her heart. It was obviously his job to keep her distracted. Besides, he might flush her out and then Alby could make the killing shot.

_Trophy on the wall._

She had two choices. She could try to reach the campsite before surfer guy or take out the jerk and hope the campers could hold on a little longer. Not knowing their current status was frustrating. As more bullets splintered the bark on an aspen to her right, she made her decision.

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Norton was having the time of his life. The sound of the rifle, the pouring rain, the howl of the wind… It was like a Hollywood movie. He was the mighty hunter, seeking his prey. Man versus the Elements. Classic.

_Dramatic, dangerous, exciting._

He paused, belched and hoped he'd remember it in the morning.

He crept closer to a cluster of trees, opting for stealth now, alert for a sign that would indicate the location of the prey. The hunt was very special this time, and though another person might have worried about the way the circumstances had changed, Norton didn't let it bother him at all. He trusted Alby to deal with any hitches in their plans and had consumed enough beer that he was oblivious to anything but having a good time.

_She sure can move_, Norton thought, momentarily distracted as he recollected the speed and agility their target had demonstrated. He had tried to figure out how she'd managed to incapacitate so many of their club members but that was a mystery for another time. Unlike them, he could handle her. She was just a girl, after all, and they'd brought down bigger game.

_Just a girl._

He ducked under a branch and straightened.

Then the tree attacked him, grabbed him from above and behind and lifted him from the ground. He opened his mouth to yell but found a strong leather-clad arm wrapped tightly around his lower jaw as he continued to rise. His ascent was so swift that he lost his hold on the rifle, barely had time to take a breath and feebly kick his legs before the top of his head connected solidly with one of the heavier branches.

The last sound Norton heard was the snap of his own neck.

There was a pause and then his limp body dropped to the soaked forest floor with a gentle thud and a shifting of leaves and needles that had gathered there from last autumn. Seconds later a dark shape crawled down the tree trunk head first, eyes glinting as it cocked its head and carefully checked the location of the other hunter. Judging the leader to be far enough away that he wouldn't be able to make a visual, the slight figure flipped the rest of the way down, landing on its feet, facing front, crouched in preparation for any attack. When none was forthcoming, X5-452 wasted no time following the trail southeast at a speed that would make the average human eye believe they had perhaps witnessed the passing of a wild animal, or had been mistaken that they had seen anything at all.

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_**6:03 PM,  
Lena Creek Campground**_

Logan Cale had experienced many things in his life, including several close encounters with Death and a paralysing injury, but they had all occurred in a very urban setting, with streets and buildings and emergency services handy - or as handy as they were since the Pulse.

Now he adjusted his position in the wheelchair, not in the comfort of his living room or in front of his computer, but parked in the mud in a mostly unfamiliar wilderness setting that didn't have any hope of back up arriving in time.

_Such is the life of the vigilante journalist_, he thought grimly.

The rain continued to pour, varying in intensity, and thunder and lightning pursued one another across the sky as the clouds rolled darkly above the park. By now, the campers they had met yesterday were probably halfway to the parking lot and with luck they wouldn't encounter any hunters on their route. Logan didn't know how many people they were up against or how organized they were, and as the water trickled down the back of the collar of his jacket he wondered exactly what he was thinking coming out here in the first place. Within hours of meeting the young man who had managed to survive one of the hunts, he was on the road to the middle of nowhere, the broken knight on his horse.

And he'd brought Max into this nightmare. He closed his eyes and replayed the words she had spoken at his apartment before they departed.

"_Yeah. Right. Like I have nothing better to do with my time than get shot at."_

They hadn't discussed it at all. He'd made a decision and coerced her into joining him.

**_Way to go, Eyes Only,_** his Inner Voice snapped. **_If she's killed during this screwed-up operation, what will you do?_**

_Shut up._

**_Cherish her memory always? Fight harder to protect the downtrodden? Wallow in guilt and self-pity? You have pictures of her on your computer. You can stare at them endlessly and wish you'd done more for her and mourn and forget to eat and shut out the rest of the world. You're good at that. Will you finally have the guts to take down Manticore or die trying?_**

_Shut up,_ _shut up!_

_**Not like you were doing much else with your life, anyway,** _the Voice continued._ **Might as well continue the fight in memory of the pointless death of a young woman who trusted you -**_

Logan opened his eyes and tightened his grip on the Vector. _I'm not going to let her die._

**_You and what army?_**

He forced himself to focus on the clearing, the tents, the trees and quickly scanned the area. He realized that the only sounds he heard involved the storm. The shots had ceased.

_That could be good or bad…_

There was movement ahead of him and to his right. A man in camouflage was advancing slowly down the hill, not far from the path Thompson, Caitlin and the girls had used to return to camp about fifty minutes before. It was dark because of the weather and he didn't have his glasses on but Logan had seen the sway of branches as the man had pushed them aside and easily tracked his location.

Placing the gun briefly in his lap, Logan slowly eased the wheelchair a bit further back into the embrace of the trees that edged the clearing. Armed once more, he wondered what he was going to do. Would he shoot the man before being spotted? Would he aim to kill? Would he be able to live with himself if he didn't wait for it to be a clear case of self-defence?

Or would he risk his own life and the lives of others because he had never made the first move in a gunfight?

_**Chicken…**_

As the man entered the campsite, rifle at the ready, and moved cautiously towards the tents, Logan swallowed, steadied his arm and cleared his throat.

"You're surrounded!" His voice cut through the rain and sounded unexpectedly steady and authoritative. "Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!"

The blond-haired man swivelled to get his bearings and locate the voice. He obviously ascertained the general vicinity because he levelled his weapon and pulled the trigger. Logan aimed and fired in the split second before then threw himself sideways in a vain attempt to avoid being shot.

The hunter screamed and dropped, clutching his right kneecap, the rifle now limp in his hands. Lying in the mud, Logan allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, having hit his target as he'd intended. Keeping the Vector clear of the ground, he crawled forward on his elbows as quickly as he was able, dragging himself towards the limited safety of the trees behind him.

Bullets whizzed near him, impacting the mud and splashing it across his face. It hadn't taken long for the blond man to regain some control - and now, he was angry, too.

_**Brilliant, Cale.**_

Something grazed his right temple, like the sharp sting of a bee. He heard a strangled noise that sounded like a choking animal then felt consciousness slip away. His last thoughts were of Max and her brilliant, wonderful smile.

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X5-452 tossed the body of the blond man aside. She hadn't killed this one, though it had been tempting. She'd reached the site in time to hear a man's voice order someone to drop their weapon, had witnessed the blond man have his knee cap blown out, but hadn't been able to reach him in time to prevent retaliatory fire.

_He wouldn't be bothering anyone for a while._

She quickly located the glint of a wheelchair and still body of a man, which lay not far from it. He had tried to crawl away…

"Logan!"

She blurred to kneel next to him and gently turned him so he was on his side, face out of the mud. He had lost consciousness. A quick assessment determined that he was bleeding from his right temple and his right calf. The front of his jacket was stained with blood and at first she thought he'd been shot in the chest.

_Oh god, please no -_

Pulling the jacket open revealed there wasn't an injury there. The relief she felt was almost enough to make her believe in a deity. On closer inspection, the head wound was minor compared to what it could have been. She struggled to keep her emotions in check; it was to be expected from a soldier in the field. _Bullet must've ricocheted off that thick skull of his. _The damage to his leg needed bandaging but looked as if it had missed the bone. He wouldn't have felt that one, of course.

_Always a danger for Logan, especially when playing with guns._

Yet another reason to hate them.

She tore his pant leg and wrapped the fabric tightly around the calf. An extra piece she crumpled in her hand and pressed against the bleeding on his head.

"Hello there, little lady."

The world seemed to crystallize around her, crisp and sharp and impossibly real. The rain sounded louder, her soaked clothing felt very heavy and the smell of the earth filled her nostrils.

She turned very carefully, shifting in the mud so she could see her opponent.

Alby stood about twenty feet away, his rifle clearly aimed at her head. He had chosen not to kill her but to announce his presence instead. _So I'll know that death is coming._

The grin on his face warned her that he wasn't currently in a very sane place.

"This is the end of the game, honey."

"You don't want to play anymore?" She was stalling for time, time to think of something she could do to survive this thing, to protect Logan, time for -

A glimmer of white light grew over Alby's shoulder and blossomed into a searing brightness. She saw him whirl around, heard him scream then a crack of thunder drowned out everything. She squinted against the light and thought there was a person standing there.

And she would have bet her bike that a large elk stood silhouetted behind them.

Then the light was gone as abruptly as it had manifested, and Sherry the park ranger lowered her rifle.

Alby lay at an awkward angle on his back in the mud, a bullet through his heart. The sky sighed and the rain washed away any blood that appeared.

"You okay?" Sherry asked. She crouched to check the pulse of the man she'd shot, fingers resting lightly against his neck. The ranger nodded her head once to Max, indicating the enemy was dead.

"I will be."

"Max?"

Her head snapped around to see Logan open his eyes.

Satisfied her mission was accomplished, X5-452 curled back into her corner like a cat returning to a comfortable chair, leaving Max to focus on the man who risked so much trying to make the world a better place.

"Hey," she said, applying pressure to his head wound again.

"Hey," he replied.

"You're gonna be fine."

He smiled weakly. "I know," he said simply, green eyes gazing up at her. "_You're_ here."

A slow smile crept across her face. "So much for getting away from it all, huh?"

"They say a change is as good as a rest," he said shakily and moved his arms as if to sit up. She put a firm hand on his shoulder and made him lie down again. In her peripheral vision, Sherry waited patiently, giving them some space for which Max was very grateful.

"Uh-uh," she said. "Nice try." Logan sighed and squished gently back down into the mud. She pulled off her jacket and rolled it into a ball before placing it under his head. "Now shut up and don't move."

He gave her a quiet laugh and her smile broadened.

Max resolved that dinner and a long, hot shower were in order.

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_**8:25 PM,  
Lena Creek Campsite,**_  
_**Olympic National Park**_

****

The paramedics were just finishing with their last patient. There were squad cars and two transport vans and the place was swarming with police. The trip out to Lena Creek had been fraught with bad weather and uneven roads. The vehicles and their occupants hadn't been through this much exercise in a while.

At least it had finally stopped raining.

As Fate would have it, Sherry had failed to appear at her nephew's birthday party and when her sister couldn't reach her, she'd sent their brother - a police officer in Hoodsport - to investigate. He'd met a frantic group of campers at the gate to the park and promptly called for reinforcements.

"Ow!"

"Stop squirming."

"I'm fine."

"Just leave the bandage alone, already."

Logan straightened his glasses, glared at Max and stated calmly, "The adhesive they've used makes my skin itch." From one perspective, it was fortunate that he didn't have the same problem with the bandage on his leg. If the adhesive irritated his skin there, he'd never know. He reached up to his temple again and attempted to remove the pad taped there. The bullet had only grazed his skull and the bleeding looked worse than it actually was.

Max smacked his hand away again.

"Hey!"

"We've covered all the ground we can tonight, Mr. Cale." It was Lieutenant Munroe, Sherry's brother. He had been very patient with an anxious group of Girl Scouts and several dishevelled adults. After he had taken the initial statements and made sure everyone was looked at by a paramedic, officers from his division had started the collection of the hunters. Max had given their locations but not divulged how they had been removed from the action. "We'll be letting you all go soon, I think."

"Thank you," Logan said and watched the officer move away to deal with another unit reporting in.

Max sighed and decided to sit on the tailgate of the Aztek beside Logan. _If we get out of this without looking suspicious_, she thought, _it'll be a miracle. _

She had also told them where to find Melanie's body. Hoodsport wasn't a big place and many members of the squad had known the young woman through Sherry - and through her work with kids at the hospital.

"Her folks will be devastated," Lieutenant Munroe had stated quietly.

Max felt an overwhelming need to scream. It just wasn't fair.

The last of the hunters was loaded into one of the vans and it bumped down the rough road towards the front gate. Logan didn't need to go to the hospital as his leg had only suffered a graze, so with the scrapes and cuts attended to, the paramedics also departed, taking a drugged and restrained Bill to the hospital with police escort. The bodies of two hunters and one park ranger had been placed in the other transport van, out of sight of the campers.

"Almost done," Lieutenant Munroe announced to the group moments later. "Just have to make sure all the I's are dotted." Mason County had an open investigation on the attempted murder of a Peter Hurst of Seattle to resolve. They wanted to ensure that a conviction against all the hunters would stick. With the pertinent details and contact information taken down, the campers were finally told they cold go. They would be contacted if their testimony were required.

As the last of the police vehicles drove away, Logan and Max looked around the campsite. There was caution tape circling parts of interest and it reflected a glossy yellow when the breeze twisted it slightly. Tony and Suzy were doing their best to console the subdued Girl Scouts, who huddled in blankets around the one remaining fire. It had been a shock when they'd been told about Melanie. Mark and Caitlin were beside the main tent speaking quietly with Sherry. Everyone had endured a lot, physically and emotionally. Earlier in the evening, water had been boiled and tea dispersed to give Caitlin and Suzy - and the girls in particular - something to do and to try to provide some comfort.

Max stared at the fire, aware that Logan had shifted his gaze to her.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

He gave a little shrug. "Helping me catch the bad guys, as always."

She frowned. "Didn't help Melanie at all."

"No, but you _did _keep the others safe." Logan hesitated then placed an arm around her shoulders. "I couldn't have done this without you, Max, and those hunters would still be getting away with murder."

She sighed. "All in a day's work for Eyes Only, right? Besides, I should be thanking you."

He looked genuinely puzzled. "For what?"

"Oh, the exercise," she began casually. "The chance to do some good… not leaving me behind…"

When he didn't respond she turned to look at him. The expression on his face was difficult to read but the way he smiled and the way his eyes shone made her stomach flip.

Trust. Hope.

_Love?_

"We're starving."

It took a few beats to realize that Suzy was standing in front of them. They turned to blink at her simultaneously. She smiled. "We figure you must be starving, too. How about we break camp and head into town together? Sherry tells us there is this great restaurant called Annie's -"

"Food!" Max slid from the tailgate and Logan's embrace. "Sounds good to me."

"Yeah," Logan said, lowering his arm and nodding. "That'd be fine."

"I'll let the others know," Suzy said, obviously pleased that, despite their short acquaintance, they weren't saying goodbye just yet. She returned to the group and Max silently started to disassemble the camping attachment.

"There wasn't anything you could have done, Max," he stated quietly.

"I know," was her brief reply. She'd never been able to do anything when it came to guns - other than refuse to use them.

"Have you seen Ranger Thompson?" This time it was Carrie approaching them. "We'd like to invite him along, too."

"Haven't seen him," Max said. She folded the awning as best she could and stuck it into the back of the Aztek.

"I think he was doing a quick sweep of the area." Logan glanced at his watch. "That was about half an hour ago." Beside him, Max muttered something he didn't catch and flipped a switch on the pump so the air mattress would deflate.

"We were wondering if he'd already left."

"I really don't know. I'm sorry." Logan smiled and was pleased to see the girl smile back in return.

_They'll get through this. It won't be easy, but the girls will be okay._ He thought of Max and the normal life she had been denied. _If only everyone had a happy ending._

"One last song," Vernice declared and the others agreed. Max paused to watch with Logan as the girls moved to stand around the fire. They didn't seem to discuss which song they were going to do so it must have been some type of tradition, that the last song was always _this_ song. The two Scout leaders and their husbands watched fondly as their troop reached out to one another, held hands, and began to sing.

_Mm-Mm I want to linger   
Mm-Mm a little longer  
Mm-Mm a little longer here with you   
Mm-Mm it's such a perfect night  
It doesn't seen quite right  
That it's my last night here with you _

_Mm-Mm and come September  
We'll all remember  
Our lasting friendship true and strong _

_Mm-Mm and as the years go by  
Remember this and sigh  
This is goodnight and not good bye._

Sometime during the song, Max had linked her fingers with Logan's. Neither of them seemed to mind.

Both of them decided not to mention it afterwards.

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The owl settled on the branch of a fir tree as the sky finally cleared. Below him, the elk dipped its head to acknowledge the faint image of a young woman as she approached. She wore her hair in a long braid down her back and the marmot kept pace beside her, stopping when she did.

**We have been here before them and we will still be here when they are gone.**

The woman smiled and reached out to touch the elk's fur. The stars reflected in her dark eyes.

_I know_, she said, though her voice didn't make a sound that could be heard by anything living.

They stood together and watched the campers a little longer then the traces that remained of a woman named Melanie turned with the elk, the owl and the marmot to begin the evening's watch at Olympic National Park.

_End._


End file.
